Within fifteen minutes Cora had been called, and we were told she agreed to arrange her living room for a meeting there in an hour. She said she had the box, safe and sound.
No one had very much to say during lunch, but afterwards Sunny came and smiled up at me. “Thanks, I was really hungry,” she said.
“We all were, but I was most concerned about your Grandpa.”
“I know, the policemen like to solve things, but they don’t pay much attention to other people when they want something done.” I thought Sunny summed it up quite well.
We made our own parade to Cora’s house. I took my Jeep and the girls rode with me, because they wanted to hug and pet Paddy, who did not mind the attention one little bit. Corliss went with Detective Milford. DuWayne and his lawyer went in another car. That made me think DuWayne must already be released on bond, since he wasn’t in handcuffs or in the presence of an officer. The FBI man drove his own vehicle. I knew we’d have to park along the road. There wasn’t nearly enough room for everyone to get into Cora’s yard.
I hadn’t been allowed to speak with her, but I was hoping Cora would figure out some of what might be happening. She did not disappoint, and she must have summoned the energy of a whirlwind to prepare her living room for us. As we filed in I could see there were no boxes filled with future museum exhibits in the middle of the room. They’d been pushed back against the floral-papered walls. She’d brought in the kitchen chairs and placed them between the couch and other chairs. I knew she had a recliner, and that’s why I’d suggested going to her place. It was the only kind of seating that didn’t hurt Len’s back.
In the middle of the room, she’d opened up one of her folding work tables, and she had laid out the photos we’d been looking at when we first noticed the box. At the far end of the white table sat the tackle box itself.
I chose one of the kitchen chairs. Paddy was welcome here, so he came in too and sat between Sunny and me. He remained alert; he seemed to understand something interesting was about to happen. We got seated and made introductions for Cora’s benefit. I learned that DuWayne’s lawyer was X.E. Jones, JD, of Chicago. Cora took charge. I was surprised the law officers let her, but despite her tiny frame she commanded the room like a teacher in a classroom. She explained how we had noticed the difference in the bridge photos and had gone in search of the reason why. Star was less interested in the box and more interested in the picnic photos showing her mother as a small child.
Cora’s build-up was perfect. At last she handed the box to Detective Milford and said, “Based on what you told me on the phone, I believe you may be able to open this, and solve one more piece of this mystery.”
I hoped she hadn’t overdone it. We really had no idea what was in the box.
Milford and Powers both slipped on latex gloves, but it was the Detective who took the knob on the lock in his big fingers and rotated it. We could hear the mechanism clicking. It sounded gritty and seemed to stick a little, but the detective worked it back and forth, and finally spun the dial a few times. I think we each held our breath as he slowed the rotation and stopped at a number. I remembered it was thirteen. I tried to recall how those locks worked. You had to go back past zero to the next number, I thought. Milford moved the dial counterclockwise a whole turn. Thirty-five. Then just a short ways to the right, to seven. Click.
The room was so quiet we all heard the lock open. Milford slipped it out of the hasp, and lifted the lid. He pulled out a small brown notebook with a rubber band around it. When he tried to remove the band it broke and fell to the floor, but the book itself was in good shape. The metal box had protected it from animals and most of the effects of the weather. We could see that much, but I saw no reactions to the book. All faces were blank; all except DuWayne’s. I thought I saw a flicker of recognition, but then his expression became inscrutable once more.
Milford opened the book and slowly flipped some of the pages. Then, wordlessly, he handed it to Powers.
Powers pored over the pages. A small smile began to play around the corners of his mouth. With every page he turned, his smile widened. At last he lifted his head.
“This book contains a complete diary of drug deliveries over a period of time between 1998 and 2004. Apparently, Angelica was acting as something of an accountant. There are notes of dates, places of delivery, kinds and quantities of drugs. Best of all, the person who was the courier for each delivery signed the book.”
I was shocked. “Why would drug dealers do that?”
DuWayne answered the question. “We were a tight group, but Larry himself insisted on it. He was so paranoid about getting cheated by one of us that he made us sign in and out. But after Angelica wanted out, she refused to keep the book any more. I thought she gave it to Larry.”
“No wonder he came back here,” Milford said, sounding extremely pleased. “He needed to find this notebook.”
“Bailey was killed September 12, 2003.” Powers said. “Let me read that entry.”
The agent flipped through a few more pages, and his smile became predatory. “Fifteen pounds marijuana, two kilos cocaine, picked up at the Sleep Lodge. The entry is signed Larry Louama. We got him.”
“That’s wonderful news,” Cora said. “But why did you bring all these people out here on the unlikely chance you might find this evidence?”
“Because I was hoping to be able to say this.” Powers lifted his head and looked at Star and Sunny. He practically squeaked, “For the person or heirs, there is a $30,000 reward for information leading to the conviction of the killer of J. Everett Bailey.”
Sunny slipped from her chair and flung her arms around the big red dog by her side. I’m sure Paddy was smiling.
Chapter 35
The lazy warmth of July drifted into the humid heat of August. Larry Louama was charged with the murder of J. Everett Bailey, and Juanita Ybarra for Angelica’s murder. Although she kept accusing Larry and Pablo of the crime, she was the knife expert, and the autopsy had officially concluded that Angelica had most probably died from being stabbed, due to those knife marks on the ribs. Larry and Pablo were charged as accessories, and the drugs found at the old house led to still more charges.
DuWayne’s case had been handled speedily, and he was already in the State Prison where he would spend the next two years. He had promised Star he’d be on his best behavior and be out in time to see her graduate from high school.
“You’d better be!” she had said. I knew she really hoped he could be there for her.
The reward money was delivered, in the form of a cashier’s check, to Misses Star and Sunny Leonard. I saw the check myself, because Len asked me to go with them all to the bank to make the deposit. I had wondered which last name the girls used. Len explained that although they cared for their dad, when he and Becky had gained custody the girls chose to become Leonards.
After much discussion, Len and the girls had decided to put most of the money into savings for their college educations. A newer house was considered, but they all agreed that they didn’t mind the small trailer all that much, and they’d rather be certain of being able to go to college.
They spent a little bit on themselves. Sunny picked out a new bicycle, and Star signed up for a year of tennis lessons. They whispered and giggled, and enlisted my help to take Len to Emily City one afternoon. At the furniture outlet he tried out all the recliners until he found the most comfortable one, which they bought on the spot, with a matching love seat. They were obviously delighted to use the words that sounded so sophisticated, “We’ll have it delivered, please.”
After that, I was informed that the next stop was the mobile phone store, where they replaced my cell phone which Larry had broken the day he had been captured.
The town was a-buzz because of the solution of these old crimes. Adele was telling everyone of her small role, and making people believe (at least she thought so) that she had done much more than spearhead literacy training and the purchase of a refrigerator. “It wil
l do for Len for years, long after the girls are grown,” Adele assured the committee members. Of course, the Family Friends voted to buy the Leonards the appliance, despite their new fortune. The money really belonged to the girls.
Len’s reading lessons finally began. The old couch with a recliner section was trucked to the library. It became the first piece of furniture in an area of relaxed seating where people could read. This also made it possible for Len to take his lessons in comfort. New methods of helping dyslexics were working well, and the tutor advised us that Len was making great progress. Since he loved books so much, he was already checking out the maximum number allowed each week, and didn’t seem to mind that they were books for children. “I just can’t get over how I can see the words now!” he had told me, wonder in his voice.
School would be starting in just a few weeks, so Star, Sunny and I spent more than a few days struggling with the less-dangerous mysteries of fabric, pins, and the sewing machine. Oh yes, and the seam ripper. But with plenty of time to spare, the salmon top and bright skirt and vest were finished. The girls were already planning their next fabric purchases.
Finally, the day came we’d all been dreading. My second cousin, Vic, was coming to pick up Paddy. Star and Sunny had asked to be at my house for the sad event, and I had agreed that they could come. Actually, I’d had a long phone conversation with Len about this very topic. Saying goodbye to Paddy would be very emotional for all of us. And yet, I knew I couldn’t keep him, even if he hadn’t been Vic’s dog. As much as I’d enjoyed his company, I didn’t really want to have the continual responsibility for another life. I was enjoying my new freedom too much.
The girls were playing with Paddy in the yard when, much to their dismay, Vic pulled into the driveway, slightly earlier than expected. I was sitting on the terrace.
Vic stepped out of his battered Subaru, and looked around. He had returned from Egypt tan and fit. Vic is about ten years younger than I am, and he looked great in jeans and a white polo shirt. However, Paddy showed no interest in going to him, and continued to chase the ball Sunny had just thrown.
“Hey Paddy! Come.” Vic called.
The dog glanced up and trotted over to Vic, but he looked at me for reassurance. Vic ruffled the long red ears.
“Come in and have some iced tea,” I said. I didn’t want to hurry the goodbye.
“Sure, I can do that,” he said.
“Do you want to come in too?” I asked the girls.
“No, we’ll play with Paddy,” Star answered.
Vic and I went inside and chatted for about thirty minutes about family issues over tall glasses of tea. I had hoped Vic would be able to spend some time with Chad this summer, but I knew from a phone conversation that the timing wasn’t going to work out this year. Vic’s mother, Rita, was well, but Vic reported that she still thought I was crazy to live in such a small town. Finally, it was time to say goodbye.
I broke down Paddy’s wire kennel and folded it. Vic carried the awkward package to the car and slid it through the hatchback. I piled on the blankets and bowls and toys.
“It’s time, girls,” I said solemnly.
“Don’t you have to take down the cable run?” Star asked. I thought I heard her voice catch.
“I’m going to leave that up in case Paddy or another dog visits me.”
“Oh, OK,” Star said. “But I thought Vic lived in Chicago. That’s a long way to visit very often.”
Sunny was hugging Paddy and not even pretending that she wasn’t crying.
“I do live in Chicago,” Vic said. “But, I’m leaving soon on another research trip, this time to Kenya. So I thought maybe Paddy would like to live in Hammer Bridge Town.”
It took a minute for the girls to process what Vic meant. They both looked at me.
“But Grandpa...” Sunny began.
“Your grandpa already said it’s a wonderful idea,” I told them with a grin. “The things are already loaded. Shall we take Paddy to his new home now?”
“Yes!” both girls said. Sunny suddenly started hiccupping, and Paddy nuzzled her in the ribs, which changed the hiccups to uncontrolled giggling.
“You and the girls lead, I’ll follow,” Vic said. Sunny, Star, Paddy and I climbed into the Jeep as fast as was possible given all the hugs that were being exchanged. Even Vic was not immune from the happy embraces.
The dog and both girls were in the back seat of the Jeep bouncing with joy. Vic came over to shut the back door and fondled the dog’s red head. He asked playfully, “Hey Paddy, weren’t you bored in this old dead swamp all summer? It looks like nothing much ever happens here.”
About the Author
Joan Young has enjoyed the out-of-doors her entire life. Highlights of her outdoor adventures include Girl Scouting, which provided yearly training in camp skills, the opportunity to engage in a ten-day canoe trip, and numerous short backpacking excursions. She was selected to attend the 1965 Senior Scout Roundup in Coeur d'Alene, Idaho, an international event to which 10,000 girls were invited. She has ridden a bicycle from the Pacific to the Atlantic Ocean in 1986, and on August 3, 2010 became the first woman to complete the North Country National Scenic Trail on foot. Her mileage totaled 4395 miles. She often writes about her outdoor experiences.
Recently, she has begun writing more fiction, with several award-winning short stories awaiting publication at Twin Trinity Media. Paddy Plays in Dead Mule Swamp is the third story in the Anastasia Raven mystery series.
Other titles in the Anastasia Raven series:
#1 News from Dead Mule Swamp
#2 The Hollow Tree at Dead Mule Swamp
Other titles on Smashwords by Joan H. Young:
Get Off the Couch with Joan
Devotions for Hikers
Connect with me online:
My Author Blog: Shark Bytes and Tales
My Personal Blog: My Quality Day
Facebook: jhyshark
Anastasia Raven mysteries fan page
Paddy Plays in Dead Mule Swamp Page 17
