Leftover Dead

by Jimmie Ruth Evans

  Wanda Nell figured they were in the living room, but it looked more like a garbage dump. There were piles of newspapers, many of them yellowed with age, all over the room. Beer cans littered the floor, and Wanda Nell didn’t even want to acknowledge the bugs she saw scuttling out of their way. She followed Jack to a ratty old sofa. He pushed some of the piles of paper out of the way, leaving a few for them to sit on.

  Wanda Nell sat down, taking care to keep the newspaper under her. It might be dusty and smelly, but she figured it was better to have that against her clothes than whatever was on the fabric of the couch.

  Howell continued to drink his beer as if they weren’t in the room with him.

  “Mr. Howell,” Jack said, “we really need to talk to you about your daughter. Can you hear me?” He raised his voice.

  Howell grunted. He didn’t look at them.

  “When Jenna Rae ran off,” Jack said, “she ended up in a place called Tullahoma, up north of here, in Tullahoma County. Do you know where that is?” He waited a moment for a response, but Howell continued to ignore him.

  Wanda Nell could tell her husband was getting exasperated, but to his credit, he didn’t make it obvious. “Jenna Rae came to Tullahoma, and she was there for about three days.” Jack paused. “We know she was adopted, Mr. Howell. And someone who knew her in Tullahoma told us she came there to find her biological father.”

  “Damn ungrateful little bitch.” Howell crumpled his beer can and dropped it on the floor. It made a metallic sound as it landed on other beer cans.

  “You didn’t want her going up there?” Wanda Nell asked. Maybe he would respond better to her. It was worth a try. Jack nodded at her. “Did she know who her biological father was?”

  “Told her to leave well enough alone,” Howell said. “But I wasn’t good enough for her. The minute her mama was dead, she was ready to take off. Damn ungrateful little bitch.” He muttered that last phrase several times until his voice faded away.

  The venom of his words shocked Wanda Nell. How could he talk about his daughter that way? Had Jenna Rae hurt him that badly?

  “Where did you adopt her, Mr. Howell?” Jack asked, when Wanda Nell failed to continue. “Was it in Tullahoma?”

  “Never been there,” Howell said, a shifty look in his eyes. “Don’t remember where we got her. Wish I’d never married her mother, and I wouldn’t have got stuck with that brat.”

  “Was your wife Jenna Rae’s biological mother?” Wanda Nell asked, struck by his words and their possible meaning.

  “Naw.” Howell looked away from them.

  Wanda Nell thought he was lying, both about never having been in Tullahoma and about his wife being Jenna Rae’s biological mother.

  “What was your wife’s name?” Jack asked.

  Howell didn’t say anything. Jack asked again, but when Howell still didn’t respond, he gave up on that question for the moment.

  Wanda Nell could feel the sweat building all over her body. The room was stifling, and the fan couldn’t do enough to alleviate that. She desperately wanted some water, but she would be afraid to drink anything in this house.

  She moistened her lips, and after another glance at Jack, she spoke to Howell again. “I’m afraid we have some bad news for you, Mr. Howell.”

  Howell grunted again.

  “Jenna Rae died, Mr. Howell. After she was in Tullahoma for only three days, she was murdered.” Wanda Nell winced inwardly at her own words, but there didn’t seem to be any other way to get through to this man.

  Either Howell already knew Jenna Rae was dead, Wanda Nell concluded from his lack of reaction, or else he was so far gone in drink he didn’t understand her.

  “Served the little bitch right. Should have left well enough alone.”

  “How can you say such a thing?” Wanda Nell was so horrified by the man’s words, she spoke before she thought.

  “What the hell do you care? Why’re you asking me all these questions? It don’t matter anymore.”

  “It does matter, Mr. Howell,” Jack said. “It matters, because no one ever figured out who killed Jenna Rae. In fact, someone did everything possible to cover it up, blaming an innocent young man for the crime. They even took away her name. They weren’t able to identify her, or so they claimed.”

  Wanda Nell watched Howell closely for a reaction while Jack spoke. She could tell that he took in what Jack was saying, because he stirred in his chair. Something Jack had said had gotten through to him.

  “Are you sure there isn’t anything you want to tell us?” Wanda Nell asked.

  “Naw,” Howell said. “Go away, and leave me alone.” Slowly he got out of his chair and started shuffling away. “I want some more beer.”

  Wanda Nell and Jack watched him go.

  “What do we do now?” Wanda Nell asked.

  “I think we should go away and come back tomorrow,” Jack said with a sigh. “If we give him some time to think about it all, maybe in the morning we can get him to talk more freely.”

  “I guess it’s worth a shot,” Wanda Nell said. She stood. “Come on, then, let’s get out of here. I want to go somewhere and take a long bath.”

  Jack stood beside her. “I’m with you on that.”

  They made their way to the front door. Stepping outside, they both breathed deeply. As they made their way with care down the walk, Wanda Nell glanced at the house next door. She spotted the face of an elderly woman peering out a window, regarding them with frank curiosity.

  On a hunch, when she and Jack reached the street, instead of following Jack to the car, she turned to approach the old woman’s house.

  “Where are you going?” Jack asked.

  “Following my instincts. I think we might be able to find out something from Mr. Howell’s neighbor.” She headed up the walk, and Jack came along behind her, muttering under his breath.

  Eighteen

  Before Wanda Nell could knock on the front door, it opened, and a small woman of about seventy-five stood there with a beaming smile. “What on earth are two nice young people like you doing over there, talking to that nasty man?” she said, her voice light and high as a child’s. “Somebody needs to take him away and put him in a home. You didn’t come to do that, did you?”

  Wanda Nell smiled at her. “No, ma’am, we didn’t. We came to talk to him about something important, though.”

  The little woman’s gaze was shrewd and sad. “But he didn’t talk much, did he? I’m surprised he could even open the door.” She shook her head. “Now what am I doing, just standing here chattering away like I don’t have any manners at all? Y’all just come on in. You’re probably dying for something to drink, aren’t you?”

  “Thank you, ma’am,” Wanda Nell said, stepping through the door, Jack right behind her. “Actually, we would appreciate some water, if that wouldn’t be too much trouble. It sure is hot out there today, and that house next door is like a steam bath.”

  Their hostess beamed at them. “My goodness, you two are tall, but what a lovely couple you are.” She assessed them for a moment. “Newlyweds, aren’t you?”

  Startled, Jack and Wanda Nell glanced at each other. “Yes, ma’am, we are,” Jack said with a smile. “How could you tell?”

  “Just something about you,” their hostess said smugly. “Now y’all come on into the parlor and sit yourselves down. I’ll be right back with some water. Are you sure that’s all you want?”

  “That will be fine, thank you,” Jack said.

  Their hostess disappeared down the hall, and Wanda Nell and Jack walked through the doorway she had indicated. They found themselves in a room completely unlike what they had seen next door. The furniture, the curtains, and the rugs had all obviously seen better days, but the air of genteel shabbiness only added to the charm. The air was blessedly clean and fresh-smelling—and above all, cool. A window unit purred, emitting blasts of chilled air. Wanda Nell and Jack sat on a sofa near a small wingback chair that appeared to be just the right size for their d
iminutive hostess.

  Soon she came bustling back with a pitcher of ice water and three glasses on a tray. She set the tray on the coffee table in front of the sofa and began to pour. After handing her guests their glasses, she poured one for herself before sitting down in her chair. Bright eyes regarded Wanda Nell and Jack over the rim of the glass. Suddenly, she laughed, a light, silvery sound. “My goodness, my manners are all mixed up today. I forgot to introduce myself.”

  “We haven’t introduced ourselves either,” Wanda Nell said. It was impossible not to smile. “I’m Wanda Nell Pemberton, and this is my husband, Jack.”

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Wanda Nell, Jack. I’m Lyda Fehrenbach. Miss Lyda Fehrenbach.” She beamed at them. “There was no man ever lucky enough to choose me for his bride, though in my day I surely had my chances.”

  Jack chuckled. “I’ll bet you were a firecracker, Miss Fehrenbach.” He paused. “And you still are.”

  Miss Fehrenbach laughed. “Young man, Wanda Nell had better watch out, or I might not let you leave.”

  “I’m not done with him just yet,” Wanda Nell said. “You’ll have to be mighty careful yourself.” She grinned at Miss Fehrenbach.

  Their impish hostess winked at her. “I will be.” She laughed again. “Now, let’s get serious here. You said you had something to talk about with Mr. Howell. I’ve lived in this house all my life, all eighty-eight years of it.”

  Seeing the startled looks on the faces of her guests, Miss Fehrenbach smiled. “You thought I was younger than that, didn’t you?”

  “We certainly did,” Jack said. “I thought you might be seventy, tops.”

  “He is a charmer,” Miss Fehrenbach said. “I can’t take any credit myself. Just good genes. My mother lived to be ninety-nine, and she didn’t look a day over eighty. She lived here with me until her death ten years ago.”

  “My goodness,” Wanda Nell said. “Those are some mighty good genes.”

  “Thank you. Back to Mr. Howell. May I be so impertinent as to ask why you came to see him? He hasn’t had any visitors in years, except his nephew.” The tone of her voice indicated what she thought of the nephew. “If he really cared about his uncle, he would have him out of that cesspit and in some nice place where he could be looked after.”

  “Since you’ve always lived here,” Wanda Nell said, “you must have known Mr. Howell and his wife and daughter.”

  “Oh, my, yes. Margaret was a very sweet woman, but she didn’t have the gumption to take a rolling pin to the side of that man’s head the way she should have. I can’t tell you how many times I advised her to do just that. He really is a coward, you know, and if she had simply been firm with him, he wouldn’t have wasted so much of his life drunk.”

  “That is too bad,” Jack said. “Did Miz Howell talk much to you about personal things?”

  “Some. The poor girl needed a shoulder to cry on, and I was very glad I could do that for her. In many ways, she was such a sad girl.”

  “You say ‘girl,’ ” Wanda Nell said. “Do you mean she was a lot younger than her husband?”

  “Oh, my, yes.” Miss Fehrenbach took a sip of her water. She thought for a moment before continuing. “Margaret would only be in her late sixties now, probably sixty-seven.”

  “She was a young mother, then,” Jack said. “And of course you knew their daughter, Jenna Rae.”

  Miss Fehrenbach’s face grew sad. “Yes, she was such a beautiful child, and such a sweet disposition, despite her terrible father. She grew up to be a beautiful girl. I can’t really say as I blame her for running off the way she did, though I sure wish she had kept in touch with me.” She sighed. “I was her history teacher in high school, and she was a bright girl. I had such hopes for her.”

  Wanda Nell and Jack exchanged uneasy glances.

  “Go ahead and tell me,” Miss Fehrenbach said. “Not much shocks me these days.”

  “I hate to have to tell you this,” Wanda Nell said. “Jenna Rae is dead.”

  “How did it happen?” Miss Fehrenbach asked after a moment.

  “She was murdered, probably not long after she left here,” Jack told her. “The case was never solved, and Wanda Nell and I are trying to solve it. We think she deserves that much.”

  Miss Fehrenbach wiped away a few tears. “Excuse me a moment. I’ll be right back.”

  Wanda Nell and Jack sat and finished their water. “I hope she’s okay,” Wanda Nell said in an undertone. “I don’t care what she said about nothing shocking her. That obviously upset her.”

  “We’ll see when she comes back,” Jack said. “She sure is a game little thing, isn’t she?”

  Wanda Nell nodded. “I hate it that we had to give her such awful news.”

  Miss Fehrenbach came back shortly after that, carrying a framed picture. She handed it to Wanda Nell and Jack before she resumed her seat.

  Wanda Nell held the portrait while she and Jack examined it. It looked like a senior portrait, the kind found in high school yearbooks, and its subject was a beautiful young woman. Her shoulder-length wavy blond hair shone, and her blue eyes sparkled with intelligence and determination. The angle of her head in the photograph showed off her elegantly shaped nose and high cheekbones to perfection. Wanda Nell’s heart contracted. This was Jenna Rae Howell.

  She handed the portrait to Jack and picked up her purse, looking through it for a tissue. She found one, wiped her eyes, and looked at their hostess. She saw the same sadness in Miss Fehrenbach’s face. “Such a waste,” Miss Fehrenbach said. “Such a lovely girl. She didn’t deserve what happened.”

  “No, she didn’t.” Jack’s voice was gruff. He set the portrait on the coffee table. Clearing his throat, he continued, “I think you can understand why we’re doing what we’re doing, Miss Fehrenbach.”

  “I certainly can,” their hostess replied. “I’m glad someone is doing it. Now, tell me what happened.”

  Jack gave her a summary of what they knew about the case. He concluded by saying, “We know why she came to Tullahoma. We just don’t know exactly who she was looking for.”

  “If we could figure that out, I think we’d be a lot closer to knowing who killed her,” Wanda Nell said. “Did Jenna Rae’s mama ever talk to you about Tullahoma?”

  “Not precisely,” Miss Fehrenbach replied. “She was reticent about some things, and all she ever told me was that she came from the northern part of the state. I don’t believe I ever heard her mention Tullahoma.”

  “What about Mr. Howell?” Jack asked. “According to him, he’s never been there.”

  “I’m sure it will come as no surprise to you that he’s lying about that,” Miss Fehrenbach said, a touch of asperity in her voice. “He must have been there, because when he came back to Hattiesburg, he brought Margaret and the baby with him.”

  “So he hasn’t always lived here?” Jack asked.

  “No, he was gone for a number of years. First in Vietnam, and that might explain a lot about the drinking.” She sighed. “After the war he didn’t come home for several years, but when he did, as I said, he had Margaret and the baby with him. That’s when his brother gave him a job at the funeral parlor.”

  “If Miz Howell didn’t talk about where she really came from, did she say what she did before she moved down here?” Wanda Nell asked.

  “She worked as a maid for somebody. She did that here, too, when Jenna Rae was old enough to go to school. She cleaned for several families here in Hattiesburg. I could give you some of the names, if you need them.”

  “We might,” Jack said. “Thank you.”

  “Did she tell you what her name was before she married?” Wanda Nell asked.

  “No, I don’t believe she ever did,” Miss Fehrenbach said after a few moments’ thought. “Now that I come to think of it, I don’t believe Margaret ever really talked about her family at all. I assumed it was because she either didn’t have any to speak of, or they were so awful she was glad to be away from them.” She shook her head. “W
hatever it was, it must have been pretty bad for her to take up with a man like Howell.”

  “Okay, so we know that she probably worked as a maid for some family in Tullahoma,” Jack said. “And when she moved here, she was married, and she and Howell had adopted the baby. It seems to me that the family she worked for probably has some connection to Jenna Rae.”

  “I would say you’re probably right,” Miss Fehrenbach said. “But I do have to correct you on one thing.”

  “What’s that?” Wanda Nell asked, slightly puzzled.

  “Howell was Jenna Rae’s adoptive father, but Margaret was her mother. There’s no doubt about that.”

  Nineteen

  “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised at that,” Wanda Nell said after a moment. “It really makes more sense in a way.”

  Jack nodded. “It sure does. Did Jenna Rae know that Margaret was really her mother?”

  “Margaret had a long talk with her a day or two before she died, and I think that’s when she told Jenna Rae a number of things,” Miss Fehrenbach said. “I always thought that was mighty strange. When Howell first brought them here, he put out the story that he and Margaret had adopted the baby after they were married. Not that he was all that chatty about it, you understand.” She shrugged. “I had no reason, at least not then, not to believe what he said.”

  “But at some point you began to suspect the truth,” Wanda Nell said.

  Miss Fehrenbach nodded. “Oh my, yes. By the time Jenna Rae was six or seven, her resemblance to Margaret was undeniable. I asked Margaret about that one day, and she admitted it. I asked her why they had pretended otherwise for so long, and she didn’t have a very good answer. Just something to the effect that Howell wanted it that way. It was an odd situation, for sure.”

  “Surely Jenna Rae could see the resemblance for herself,” Jack said.

  “She probably did. She was a bright girl, like I told you before. But if she did, she kept her own counsel about it. She didn’t confide in me. I wish she had.” She sighed, twisting her hands in her lap. “If only she had, maybe I would know enough to help you now.”