by Janet Cooper
“As you already know, three days after he went missing we cut back on the patrols. That’s standard procedure,” he added.
She nodded and bit her lower lip. Jeff tightened his hold on her hands.
“While doing their normal jobs on the rivers since then, they’ve kept their eyes open for possible clues. But, officially, yes Taylor.”
She started to cry. Her father passed her his handkerchief, while Jeff released her hands and held her in his arms. For a long while, only the grandfather clock in the hall broke the silence.
Blotting her eyes, Taylor eased away from Jeff and stared at the sheriff. “You knew about the pending case. Why didn’t you tell me the bank and the investors had filed to have Rod declared dead? Why did you keep me in the dark? Rod was my fiancé. Didn’t I have a right to know what was happening? You, Sheriff, promised to keep me informed. Is this how? By springing an existing…” She searched for the word and failed.
Sheriff Trotz leaned forward, resting his elbows on his thin knees. “Taylor, honey, the bank knew about the previous situation or their lawyers did. Lenders challenged the lengthy time period. Other investors joined in the suit. The judge acquiesced to their demands.”
“He’s only been missing a month!” she cried.
Her father touched her shoulder. “Taylor, remember the investors. They deserve closure, too.” His words strong, but caring sank in.
“Let me explain,” Sheriff Trotz said, his southern accent extremely pronounced, as if often was when he was uncomfortable with his words. “The money Rod borrowed from his investors must be accounted for. In lieu of a partner or accountant who could give the necessary information, the only way the bank and the investors can have access to the company’s documents and the assets, is by declaring Rod dead.”
Taylor shook her head, trying to make order from her jumbled brain. “What happens next?”
“The county has hired Jeff as a consultant. He understands all the nuances of this field. That’s why I brought him with me to explain.” The sheriff looked over at Jeff.
“Taylor, I”
“Why didn’t you tell me you were working on this? Don’t I deserve a chance to refute or at least be on the same page as everyone else?” Hurt filled her. “Why, Jeff? Why?” She looked at him with sadness. Her friend had betrayed her by his silence.
“Taylor,” her father interrupted, before the sheriff could. “Jeff, couldn’t tell you. This is an ongoing investigation, a police matter, a legal matter. He would have been betraying a confidence and a trust. Just as I can’t discuss a patient, he can’t discuss a case. Please understand,” Martin said, quietly. “Please.”
The entire time her father spoke, Taylor focused her attention on Jeff. Oh, she heard her dad’s words, but they hadn’t fixed in her mind until he compared the situation to his own practice. She had grown up knowing that her father would not discuss his patients at home. He might joke about something at the office, but the person’s personal health problem, never. She remembered working in his office as she did most summers and during the school holidays. Her job was to file and later enter the information on the computer regarding the treatment and the condition of the patient. Her father made her swear that she would not divulge anything that she had seen. Reluctantly, she pushed her anger aside and tried to stem the hurt. “I still wish I had been a part of this,” she allowed.
Looking at Jeff, she said, “I’ll listen.”
“Thank you. I haven’t really found much. The judge just ruled yesterday afternoon that we could have access to Rod’s construction trailer. I went over last night to pick up his computer, but I couldn’t find one in his office and the one the Sheriff discovered at home is an antique. After I leave here, Sheriff Trotz and I will go to his house and check again. Did he use a desk top or a notebook?”
“Notebook. He told me until the project got off the ground he’d prefer to have only one computer.”
“Makes sense. Computers cost money and the less spent initially, the better for the project. Back to my investigation, I found the architectural rendering for a couple of projects.” He looked at Taylor and watched the color drain from her face. Reluctantly, he pushed forward. “The name of the architect is on each sheet. On Monday, I’ll call Sam Peabody’s architectural firm and see if he and Rod had a schedule for starting. As to the financing, the bank told me he had a special rate and a special deal, something involving partial county financing. That’s probably the main reason they hired me,” Jeff said, winking at Sheriff Trotz, “an outsider.”
The Sheriff didn’t disagree or agree.
“I believe, because Rod planned to have low cost housing as a part of his project and the county is eager for this, they may have helped or sweetened the deal, delayed taxes until the project was completed, some break.”
Nothing could be read from the Sheriff’s face.
“The plaintiffs in the case are listed. After classes on Monday, I’ll contact each of them and find out what arrangements Rod made. Hopefully, by that time I’ll have Rod’s computer and the legal papers the individual investors signed. That updates what I’m doing.”
“There’s one other piece of news.” Sheriff Trotz scrolled on his cell for a moment. “Heard back from the Feds regarding the DNA. Belongs to a Samuel LeFarge. Ran into a bit of trouble in Louisiana awhile back. Information matches.”
Everyone focused on the sheriff.
“Called a Ms. Delilah LeFarge, the vic’s sister and only surviving family. She’ll be arriving shortly to claim the …body. Told me her brother’s a guide in Louisiana. Came to Beaufort to help Rod. Didn’t know with what.
“Taylor, know anything about LeFarge?” Sheriff Trotz eyed her curiously and held his cell as if waiting to enter data.
She leaned against the cushions. “Every year, Rod took off to go fishing, usually in the Bayou country. He never mentioned a guide’s name or if he did I’ve forgotten. Sorry, Sheriff.”
“The Pinckney’s originally came from Louisiana,” Jeff said. “Rod’s dad worked at a military base that closed. He got a job here, worked there until he started the fruit and vegetable stands.”
“Really?” said the sheriff.
“I’d forgotten that,” Taylor said, frowning.
The sheriff continued, “Ms. LeFarge should be arriving any day. Perhaps, she’ll know something.”
“Anything else we should know,” Martin asked.
Glancing at his cell again, he shook his head and flipped it closed.
“Before you go, is anyone seriously searching for Rod?” Taylor asked even though she’d received an answer before.
He puckered his lips in a tight line. “Taylor, I’ll call in a few favors. Ask the local people to increase their hunts for him while they go about their other duties. Community wants to find him. Won’t give up investigating until they do,” Sheriff Trotz said. “You must face reality. Surviving a month alone in our environment …”
Whipping her eyes with the back of her hands, Taylor blinked back her tears and surveyed the group. “Thank you.” She cleared her throat. “I’m sorry I exploded. I do appreciate what everyone has done. This has been the most difficult month of my life.” She slowly stood up, nodded to the people in the room, and walked out the doorway leading to the kitchen.
Sheriff Trotz and the other two men rose when Taylor did. “Guess I’m finished here.” He shook hands with Jeff and Martin. “Thanks, Mary, for the snacks.”
“Anytime, Sheriff. Would you like to take a ‘to-go’ bag?”
“No, thanks, but I’ll take a corn muffin and eat it later.” He smiled at her as he grabbed one.
“I’ll walk out with you,” Martin said.
“And, I’ll try and find Taylor.” Jeff hastened out the same doorway she’d used moments before.
After looking around the pool area and discarding the stables since she had been there this morning, he walked to the camellia garden, entered, and called, “Taylor, are you here?”
&n
bsp; “Yes.” Her voice sounded quiet and subdued.
He followed the path that led through the garden and to the dock. He found her sitting on the tree where they’d had their picnic. Without asking permission, for he feared she’d refuse, he straddled the thick trunk so that he could view her profile. He sat quietly for many minutes, before asking, “Anything I can do?”
She turned her head and stared at him. Her eyes showed no anger, but they also showed little emotion. “Yes, continue being here for me.”
He started to speak, but she shook her head.
“My father’s words reminded me of how important trust is. As a little girl, I always wanted to know who had come to the office to see him and why. He often would tell me who, not always, but often, but never why. As a teenager, I resented his silence. When I worked for him, I understood more. You and he are so much alike, honest, kind, and generous.” She placed her hand over the one closest to her and squeezed. “I value that, especially right now.”
Chapter Thirteen
“Coming,” Taylor shouted as she raced down the hall steps. As she rounded the final corner, she stopped and stared at the woman on the other side of the screen. A tall, shapely brunette wearing a very short green sleeveless dress that did nothing to hide gorgeous long legs, stood waiting. “Hello,” Taylor said approaching the doorway, but not opening the screen. “May I help you?”
“I’m Delilah LeFarge, Sam’s sister. I presume you’re Taylor Harris?”
Taylor nodded.
“I’ve just seen Sheriff Trotz and … he mentioned your name.” Her voice a mixture of Cajun and southern sounded pleasant to Taylor’s ears. “May I speak to you, please?”
Unsure what the woman wanted, but curious to discover any information, Taylor unlatched and opened the door. “Please come in.”
The woman stepped into the hallway, onto the small rug and appeared uneasy.
“Let’s sit on the front porch and talk there.” Taylor led her straight through the house, opened the other screen door, and gestured for Ms. LeFarge to precede her. “Please take a seat.” She indicated a table with four chairs sitting on the patio. The attractive woman hesitated for an instant before sitting in a chair that faced the river.
“Having been raised near the river, I find seeing water peaceful.” She placed a thin, red leather folder on the table. “I have a story to tell you about my brother, Sam and Rod.”
“Oh.”
“They shared their early childhood. Their friendship started almost from the time they could walk.”
Taylor’s spine straightened and her mind raced. For some reason, she didn’t want to hear this story alone. Her father had left for work early this morning. Was Mary still here? “Before you begin, would you care for a glass of sweet tea?”
“Indeed, I would. I’m parched.”
“Stay right here and relax. I’ll bring the pitcher and glasses outside.”
“May I help?”
“No. I’ll just be a minute.” Taylor almost fled into the house. Pushing open the swinging kitchen door, she called, “Miss Mary?”
“Right here dear one. Who was at the door? I was in the pantry and couldn’t get to the door. When I heard your voice, I went back to straightening the shelves.”
“I’ll explain in a minute. Please, grab a few cookies, while I get the iced tea pitcher and three glasses.”
A few minutes later, Mary and Taylor strolled onto the patio. She put the tray containing the tea items on the table. “Miss Mary, may I present Ms. LeFarge, Samuel’s sister?” Taylor saw the surprise in Miss Mary’s face. “Ms. LeFarge, may I present Mary Campbell, a dear friend of our family?”
“I’m sorry to intrude on y’all, but after talking to Sheriff Trotz I wondered if you might like a little information about Rod before he moved here and a little about our connection?”
“We certainly would and I decided instead of my re-telling your story, Mary should hear you first-hand. You don’t object, do you?”
Shaking her head no caused her wavy, shoulder length hair to bob back and forth touching her lovely, oval shaped face.
Mary served the iced tea, placed the lemon and mint close to the newcomer, and slid her shortbread cookies closer. “Please help yourself.”
“Thank you.” She selected one of the glasses, added a slice of lemon and a stem of mint, and then took a sip. “Wonderful. Only a Southerner can make a good iced tea.”
“Thank you,” Mary said blushing.
Delilah smiled. “As I mentioned to Miss Harris …”
“Taylor, please. And before you begin, may I say my family is very sorry for your loss?”
She nodded. “Do call me Delilah. As for my tale, my brother and Rod grew up and played together until his family moved away to Beaufort. Our mothers are distant cousins and our fathers’ friends since their boyhoods. Both of our dads joined and served in the Marines. After their discharge, they remained friends and worked at the air station in Bayou, Louisiana until it closed. My dad moved to Baton Rouge and found a job, while Rod’s family went to Beaufort. We lost track of them until twelve years ago when Rod came back. His mother’s kin had all died off and she’d inherited a house, a small cottage by the river close to Bayou.
“Somehow, Rod found us in Baton Rouge and came for a visit. My papa and mama had passed away in a freak flood a year before.” She stopped, took another sip of tea, and frowned. “Guess all that doesn’t matter.
“He told us his parents had decided to buy a motor home and explore the country. He had power of attorney to settle the property in Louisiana. We lost touch with him again after he left. Or at least I did.”
She looked from one to the other, with a worried expression. “Please forgive me if my story seems long and convoluted but I don’t know how else to explain our connection.”
“You’re telling us new information. Feel free to continue,” Taylor said.
She nodded. “My brother always had trouble staying or keeping any job. He got involved with drugs, and to be honest, after years of trying to help, I gave up on him. About five years ago, Bubba.” She flushed. “Bubba’s his nickname and Rod always called him that. Somehow that name just slipped out; maybe because I’m talking about Rod. Anyway, my brother, Sam called me saying Rod had offered him the use of the cottage for vacations if he would maintain the house and the land. There’s not much left in Bayou nor do many people live there since the military left. I guess Rod wanted to protect his parents’ interest. Since that contact, Sam and I texted or emailed occasionally, but don’t visit. In fact, I don’t have or didn’t until the Sheriff gave me, have an actual postal address for him.” Again, she shrugged as if embarrassed by her tale. “Two months ago, he emailed me saying Rod had offered him a job here and he was taking it. Sam added he needed to complete ‘something’, didn’t say what and then he’d leave.”
Mary and Taylor peeked at one another, but kept quiet at this new information.
“I don’t know any of the details regarding the job.” She stopped. “To be honest, Sam and I quarreled again about …” She shook her head. “Private matters. But he is …was my brother and the only family had left. I haven’t received a text or an email from him for a while.” She flushed. “I didn’t worry. Sam’s never been good about keeping in touch except when he needed money.” Her face reddened further. “When Sheriff Trotz contacted me about Sam’s accident, I came east. While the sheriff and I spoke, he explained about Rod. I’m very sorry to hear about your lost, but I wondered if you’d ever met my brother or knew anything concerning him while he was here?”
Mary and Taylor eyed one another. “Delilah, until Sheriff Trotz mentioned Sam, I’d never heard of him.”
“I thought as much. Perhaps if I had stayed in touch …”
Mary interrupted. “Child, one can only do so much.”
“What did he look like? Perhaps I saw him.” Taylor waited for the answer.
“Bubba, sorry, Sam’s two years older than I am. One day at
school someone said, ‘I didn’t know your brother had a twin.’ I assured them he didn’t, and then laughed. ‘You must mean Rod Pinckney’. People say they look alike, but I never noticed. When I told my brother and Rod, they decided it would be fun to play tricks on people.”
“Did they look that much alike?” Taylor questioned.
Unzipping her red case, she reached in and pulled out a photo. Mary and Taylor leaned forward in their chairs to see. The picture showed two young teens, almost exactly the same height, brown hair streaked with blond, light colored eyes, faded jeans and wearing identical colored tees. One logo said Rod with an arrow pointing to the left; the other said Bubba with an arrow pointing to the right. “They enjoyed wearing these.”
Taylor grasped the photo. “Amazing.”
Mary said, “Did you show this to the Sheriff?”
Delilah nodded. “He made a copy.”
“I definitely never met him. If he arrived here before the wedding, which from what you said sounds correct, why didn’t Rod introduce us?”
“My brother was a little crude. That’s one of the things we argued about, one of many.” She placed the picture back in her case and rose to leave. Mary and Taylor pushed back their chairs also. “Oh, before I go I need an address for Rod’s parents to send them a sympathy card. How are Aunt Estelle and Uncle Johnny handling Rod’s …”
“Being missing?” Mary supplied the unspoken words.
The other woman nodded.
“We don’t have an address or an email. We tried to contact them, but failed. The Sheriff’s still trying to get in touch. Obviously, by your comment, you don’t have that information either,” Taylor said.
She shook her head sadly and looked embarrassed. “Time passes and like the old saying, ‘out of sight, out of mind’. The last I heard was when Rod told us about their buying a motor home.”
