Leftover Dead

by Jimmie Ruth Evans

  Jack nodded. “Did you keep watching?”

  “I watched for a few minutes, but everything was very quiet. As curious as I was, I was getting a bit bored just standing there.” She blushed slightly. “Plus I needed to visit the ladies’ room. And by the time I came back, the car was gone.”

  “Did you happen to notice what kind of car it was?” Jack asked. “Two-door, four-door, SUV, for example?”

  Miss Lyda shook her head. “It was small, that’s all I remember. Oh, and it must have been pretty dark-colored. Maybe black. I’m sorry, I’m not very good when it comes to knowing much about cars.”

  “That’s at least something,” Jack said.

  “How long do you think the person was in Mr. Howell’s house?” Wanda Nell asked.

  Miss Lyda frowned in concentration. “I’d say at least twenty minutes, maybe a little longer. I must have stood there a good ten minutes, watching to see what would happen. And then I was probably in the bathroom for about the same length of time.”

  “Were you worried then?” Wanda Nell asked. “You could have gotten us up then if you were concerned. We wouldn’t have minded a bit.”

  “I really wasn’t that worried at first. I went back to reading my book, and to tell the truth, I got so wrapped up in it, I forgot about it. I must have dozed off in my chair, because I woke up there a little while ago. Then I remembered what had happened, and the more I thought about it, the stranger I realized it was.”

  “So you don’t think it could have been someone delivering a late-night bottle of whisky, or something?” Jack asked.

  “No, I don’t think so. In all the time since Margaret died and Jenna Rae left, he’s had very few visitors at night. He used to have some drinking buddies who’d come over, and they would have a right rowdy time. But I don’t think this was one of them. I haven’t seen hide nor hair of them in at least a year.”

  While Jack and Miss Lyda talked, Wanda Nell dressed as quickly as she could. She pulled on her jeans, then exchanged her nightgown for a blouse.

  “I’ll go have a look, just in case, to make sure he’s okay,” Jack said. He went for his shoes and then pulled a shirt on over his T-shirt. “Y’all wait here, and I’ll see what’s going on.”

  As Jack left, Wanda Nell focused her attention on Miss Lyda. She was still pale. “Why don’t we go in the kitchen and fix some hot coffee, or maybe some hot tea?” She held out a hand to her hostess.

  “Thank you, dear. I think I’d like some hot coffee,” Miss Lyda said, accepting Wanda Nell’s hand.

  In the kitchen Miss Lyda directed Wanda Nell to the coffee and the filters for the coffeemaker. Soon Wanda Nell had the machine going, and she was about to pour the first cup for Miss Lyda when Jack returned.

  Wanda Nell took one look at his face and knew something really bad had happened. “Miss Lyda,” he said, “I’m afraid we need to call the police. Where’s your phone?”

  Mutely, Miss Lyda pointed to the wall nearby. Her hand was shaking, and Wanda Nell quickly poured her coffee and added a couple of spoons of sugar to it. While Jack punched in a number, Wanda Nell urged Miss Lyda to drink her coffee. She pulled a chair next to her hostess and kept an arm around her small, trembling shoulders.

  Jack spoke tersely, and Wanda Nell could feel Miss Lyda continue to shake as they listened to Jack’s side of the conversation.

  After a moment Jack hung up the phone and turned to them. “I’m sorry, Miss Lyda, but you were right.”

  Miss Lyda nodded. “That person in the night killed him.” Wanda Nell had to steady the hand holding the coffee cup. “Perhaps if I had done something earlier. . . .” Her voice trailed off.

  “No, ma’am,” Jack said, his voice very gentle. “There’s nothing you could have done for him. I’ll spare you the details, but believe me, nothing you could have done would have helped him.”

  “Drink some more coffee, Miss Lyda,” Wanda Nell urged. She was terrified that the shock might prove too much for their hostess, but Miss Lyda rallied. “I’m sorry that something like this happened. He was an awful man in so many ways, but he surely didn’t deserve this.”

  “No, he didn’t,” Jack said. His own face had paled, and without a word, Wanda Nell left Miss Lyda’s side to pour some coffee for her husband. The sight must have been pretty grim, because Jack was obviously very shaken.

  Jack accepted the hot coffee with a grateful look. “Thanks, honey.” Wanda Nell rubbed his arm, not liking how cold it felt.

  “Keep drinking,” she said.

  Moments later they heard a siren in the distance, and by the time they all reached the front door, the sound was very loud. Jack opened the door, and all three of them stepped onto the porch. The morning heat was welcome. Wanda Nell hadn’t realized how cold she had been until she came outside.

  Two officers got out of the squad car, and Jack went down the walk to greet them. Wanda Nell and Miss Lyda remained on the porch, sitting in the two chairs Miss Lyda kept there. They couldn’t hear the conversation, but after a quick consultation with Jack, the officers headed to Howell’s front door. Jack came back to Wanda Nell and Miss Lyda.

  In the next few minutes more vehicles arrived, and curious neighbors had started coming out of their homes. A couple of patrol officers worked to keep them from crowding too close. One neighbor, a woman in her sixties, attempted to approach Miss Lyda’s house, but a patrolman stopped her. A vociferous argument ensued, but the officer wouldn’t budge. Finally the woman retired, casting furious glances at him.

  “Betsy Bobo,” Miss Lyda told Wanda Nell and Jack in an undertone. “The neighborhood busybody. She’ll be beside herself because she doesn’t know what’s going on. She’d rather gossip than eat any day.”

  “She’ll have enough to keep her going for a while,” Jack said. “As soon as the details of this leak out.”

  Miss Lyda placed a hand on his arm. “Please tell me at least a little. I promise I’m okay.”

  Jack stared at her. Wanda Nell caught his eye and nodded. He squatted next to Miss Lyda’s chair. “He was beaten pretty badly, with a poker from the fireplace.”

  Miss Lyda clutched the arms of her chair for a moment. “How terrible. Someone must have been very angry to do something like that.”

  “The police will be coming to question all of us before too much longer,” Jack said. “Will you be okay with that?”

  “Of course,” Miss Lyda said, her tone firmer. “I know my duty.”

  Wanda Nell clasped one of Miss Lyda’s small hands in hers. “And we’ll be here with you.”

  “Thank you. I think I’d like to go back inside.”

  “Good idea,” Wanda Nell said. “Let’s go have some more coffee. I know I could sure use some.”

  “I’ll be along in a minute,” Jack said. Wanda Nell nodded as she led Miss Lyda into the house.

  Miss Lyda had finished her second cup of coffee, and Wanda Nell her first, by the time Jack came back to the kitchen. He brought with him a tall, heavyset black man in a rumpled suit. Jack started to speak, but Miss Lyda interrupted him.

  “My goodness, Rufus King,” she said, starting to rise from her chair. “Are you in charge of this investigation?”

  King stepped forward to take Miss Lyda’s hand and urge her to remain seated. “I sure am, Miss Lyda. How are you doing?” He smiled at her, and she beamed at him.

  “Better, knowing that you’re in charge.” Miss Lyda turned to Wanda Nell. “Rufus was one of my students thirty years ago. He’s always been a fine boy, and I’m so proud of him.”

  The fifty-something-year-old “boy” blushed. “Miss Lyda was always everyone’s favorite teacher. No one worked us harder, but no one ever gave us more.”

  Wanda Nell was greatly touched by the affection and admiration in the policeman’s voice. “Somehow I don’t have any trouble believing that,” she said.

  “This is my wife,” Jack said. “Wanda Nell Pemberton.”

  “How do you do, ma’am?” King turned his attenti
on back to Miss Lyda. “Now, Miss Lyda, I sure hate to put you through all this, but I do need to ask you some questions.”

  “Of course, Rufus,” she said. “I’m ready. Wanda Nell has been looking after me, and I’m feeling much stronger.”

  “Thank you. I’d rather talk to Miss Lyda alone. If y’all don’t mind, I’ll ask you to wait in another room.”

  “Of course,” Jack said. Wanda Nell rose from her chair. “We’ll be in our bedroom.”

  As they walked out of the room, King began. “Now tell me please, Miss Lyda, everything you saw or heard.”

  Back in their room, Wanda Nell sat down on the edge of the bed. “Are you okay, honey?”

  Jack sat down beside her and pulled her close. She rested her head against his shoulder. “I hope I never have to see something like that again,” he said.

  “I’m sorry you had to. This sure is something I wouldn’t have expected.”

  “Me either, though I guess we really shouldn’t be surprised, after our visit. Howell saw a chance to blackmail somebody, and it went wrong.”

  “You thought he was lying about knowing who his wife worked for in Tullahoma,” Wanda Nell said. “This proves it. Or that he knew who Jenna Rae’s real father was.”

  “Something like that,” Jack agreed. “He obviously called someone who was involved in the situation, and that person came rushing down here to make sure he stayed quiet about what he knew.”

  “And now we’ll never know what he could have told us.”

  “Unless the police find something when they search his house. And I’m betting whoever killed him tried to make sure they wouldn’t find anything.”

  “The house was such a mess, how would the killer be able to go through everything in the short time Miss Lyda says he was there?”

  “You’ve got a point,” Jack said. “We’ll just have to hope the police will be able to find something. Anything.”

  Wanda Nell was struck by a terrible thought. “What if they think one of us did it?”

  “They may very well think that,” Jack said, shrugging. “I couldn’t really blame them. After all, the coincidence is a bit much. We show up in Hattiesburg looking for this man, and in less than twenty-four hours, he’s dead.” He shook his head. “Miss Lyda will be able to give us an alibi. She ought to be a pretty credible witness, and King obviously has a great deal of respect for her.”

  “Thank goodness,” Wanda Nell said.

  They sat in silence for a while longer, waiting for a summons from King.

  A knock came at the door at last, and Jack got up to answer it. King stood in the hall outside. “Would y’all mind coming into the kitchen with me?” He waited for Wanda Nell and Jack to leave the room and then followed them back to the kitchen.

  Miss Lyda was still sitting in her chair. King indicated that Wanda Nell and Jack should sit down, and he took the remaining chair at the table.

  “Now, according to Miss Lyda, you two are in the clear. Not that I don’t believe her account of what she saw, you understand, but until I know more about the time of death, I’m keeping my options open.”

  “Certainly, officer,” Jack said. “We can understand that. What do you want to know?”

  “Why did you come here in the first place? What was your business with Howell?”

  Jack began to explain, trying to give King a condensed version of the story. King wasn’t interested in that, insisting on knowing everything. Jack began again, giving every detail of what he and Wanda Nell had done thus far. Wanda Nell chipped in occasionally, and King would nod at her.

  At some point Miss Lyda got up and made a fresh pot of coffee. King accepted a cup with a quick nod of thanks, never taking his eyes off Jack. Wanda Nell sipped gratefully at hers and wished she didn’t feel so hungry. She was surprised she could even feel hungry after what had happened, but she was. No doubt Jack and Miss Lyda were as well.

  It took them nearly half an hour to share all the details with King. When Jack had finished, King sat staring at him for a full minute.

  “That’s a pretty complicated story you got there. Based on all that, I reckon you’re thinking that the killer was somebody from Tullahoma—or at least connected to Tullahoma—who was involved in the murder of Howell’s daughter thirty-one years ago.”

  “Adopted daughter,” Miss Lyda said.

  “Yes, ma’am,” King responded with a slight smile. “His adopted daughter. Now, Miss Lyda has told me a lot about Howell and his habits. Considering the condition of that house, it’s going to take us a while to go through everything, looking for some kind of evidence to tie this thing to someone in Tullahoma.”

  “Do we need to stay in Hattiesburg for a while?” Jack asked. “We can, if you need us to, but we don’t want to impose too much on Miss Lyda.”

  Miss Lyda started to protest, but King shook his head. “I’ve already had a talk with the sheriff in Tullahoma.” He looked at Jack. “He corroborated what you told me earlier, Mr. Pemberton. He vouches for you, so I’m going to say it’s okay for you to go back home. I’d rather you stay over one more night, though, just in case.”

  “And you will stay here with me,” Miss Lyda said, her voice firm. “Don’t you think of going anywhere else.”

  “Thank you, Miss Lyda.” Wanda Nell gave a smile of gratitude. “We surely do appreciate it.”

  King rose. “Thank you, too, Miss Lyda.” He nodded at Wanda Nell and Jack. “I might be back a little later with more questions.”

  “Of course,” Jack said, rising from his chair. “I’ll see you out.” The two men left the kitchen, and Miss Lyda sighed.

  “What a terrible situation. I’m embarrassed to admit it, but I’m more than a bit peckish. What about you, Wanda Nell?”

  “I am, too. I know it’s probably bad of me to be thinking of food at a time like this, but I was afraid my stomach was going to start growling any minute.”

  “Then we should definitely do something about that,” Miss Lyda said. “I’m sure Jack must be hungry, too, though after what the poor boy has had to see, he might not want to eat.” She shook her head.

  “I know.” Wanda Nell had been worrying about that very thing. Jack might have nightmares, and she wouldn’t be surprised. It had sounded pretty grisly, even from the minimal details he had shared.

  Miss Lyda stood. “Let’s get cooking, then.”

  “I’ll be happy to do the cooking,” Wanda Nell said.

  “Ordinarily I would insist on doing it myself,” Miss Lyda replied with a sweet smile. “But I do get tired of my own cooking. So if you wouldn’t mind, dear, I will take you up on your offer.”

  Jack came back a couple of minutes later to find his wife busy at the stove. He insisted on helping, and while they worked, they talked about other things. They all needed to think of something else for a while, and when the food was ready, they all ate. Jack ate less than usual, but Wanda Nell didn’t say anything. She was just glad he felt like eating something. He would need it as the day went on.

  They had finished breakfast, but were still sitting at the kitchen table, when a knock sounded at the front door. Jack went to answer it and came back with Rufus King.

  King glanced at the table—wistfully, Wanda Nell thought—but then focused his attention on Miss Lyda.

  “Please sit down, Rufus,” she said before he could speak.

  “Yes, ma’am.” He took a seat across the table from her.

  “How about some coffee?” Miss Lyda asked.

  “Thank you, but I’m fine,” King said with a brief smile. “Now, Miss Lyda, I have a few more questions I’m hoping you can answer. First, do you have any idea what kind of income the deceased had?”

  Miss Lyda thought for a moment, her head cocked to one side. “Well, I know he received Social Security, but I doubt it was much, considering the kind of job he had. You don’t make much being a janitor at a funeral home, I reckon.” She paused. “I suppose his brother, and after he died, his nephew, might have given him money
from time to time, maybe a pension. But I wouldn’t think it was much. You saw how he lived.”

  King nodded. “That’s exactly it. Some things just don’t add up.” He stared hard at Jack. “Now, I’m going to tell you something, and I don’t want it going any further, understand?”

  Jack nodded.

  King looked at Miss Lyda again. “My men have been going over the place, and we found a couple drawers in the kitchen full of receipts of all kinds and bank statements. You’re right about his Social Security. It wasn’t very much. That was the only deposit we saw in the statements.” He paused for a moment. “According to the receipts, though, he was spending hundreds of dollars a month on beer and alcohol. By the time you add up his utilities and what he was spending on food and medicine, he was spending way over his Social Security check every month.”

  “So he was getting money from somewhere every month,” Jack said. “The question is, was he blackmailing someone?”

  Twenty-one

  “I suppose his nephew could have been giving him money every month,” Miss Lyda said. “But it surely wouldn’t have been enough for him to spend that much on liquor. His nephew’s a teetotaler, that I do know.”

  “He was probably blackmailing whoever killed him,” Wanda Nell added. “Maybe the person who killed Jenna Rae thirty-one years ago.”

  “Wanda Nell and I were talking about this earlier,” Jack said. “We figure that Howell had been getting money from someone for years. But then we show up, asking questions, and he gets the idea that what he knows is worth a lot more money.”

  “And so he calls the person who’s been paying him all this time, and he comes down and eliminates Howell,” King said, continuing the train of thought.

  Jack nodded. “Doesn’t that sound reasonable?”

  “It does,” King replied. He stared at Wanda Nell and Jack for a moment, his expression serious. “Another thing I’m wondering is whether Howell had time to tell the killer about you two. The killer would certainly want to know exactly why Howell was wanting more money all of a sudden.”