by Sharon Sala
“What the hell was that about?” Duroy asked.
Mike wiped his face and put the car back in gear.
“Just Prophet being Prophet. He wanted to tell me the devil was afoot.”
Poppy shivered. From her viewpoint, there was more than a note of truth to the statement.
Mike waited until they’d crossed the river before he returned to the subject of Poppy’s father.
“Miss Sadler, I’m sorry to keep pressuring you, but it’s important that we find out as much as we can early on. Do you understand?”
She nodded.
“You asked if he’d gotten drunk and drowned. Was drinking a problem for your father?”
“It had been years ago, but not lately. However the stress of Mama’s health was weighing heavy on him. I just assumed that’s what must have happened. I shouldn’t have.”
“Was your father having problems with anyone?”
They braked for a red light. Poppy eyed a pink dress on a department store mannequin and wondered how much it cost. She’d have to buy something to bury Mama in and pink had been her favorite color.
“Miss Sadler?”
She realized he was still talking and made herself focus. “Sorry, uh, not that I knew of.”
“He wasn’t angry with the boss after he got fired?”
Poppy reeled as if she’d just been slapped. Her eyes darkened. “Daddy got fired? When? I didn’t know. He never said.”
“I’m sorry. I assumed you knew. We were told it happened about a week ago.”
Poppy mind was racing. “Oh my God! That means he lost the medical insurance, too. He would have been crazy worried about that and he never said a word. Mama’s hospital care... all those doctor bills.” Her face twisted with sudden rage. “Exactly what was it he did that got him fired, or did Mr. High and Mighty Caulfield decide Mama’s care was costing him too much money and they just kicked us to the curb?”
Mike felt bad that he was making it worse, but they had to know all they could to figure out who had wanted Jessup dead bad enough to pump three bullets into his body.
“I don’t know, Miss Sadler. We have a man checking into it.”
She shoved her hands through her hair again, but the anger had steadied them.
“It doesn’t matter. Nothing’s going to bring him back. Nothing’s going to bring either one of them back.”
She suddenly threw back her head and laughed. The sound gave Amblin chills, as did the raw anger in her words.
“There should be a law in the universe that if you are born into hell, you get a free pass to heaven when you die. It would make the current facts of my life somewhat easier to bear.”
Mike glanced up in the rearview mirror at his partner’s face, and then stared straight through the windshield. The despair in her voice was palpable.
“We’re very sorry.”
“Yes, well… thank you. In the meantime when you find Daddy’s car, if you find it and do whatever it is you need to do, I would appreciate it if you’d let me know when I can have it back. I have nothing else to drive and no money to buy another one.”
“Do you have any idea where he was going when he left your house last night?”
She looked at him as if he’d lost his mind. “The same place he went every night after he got home from the mine and cleaned up... to Saint Anne’s to sit with Mama.”
****
Justin Caulfield stood at the windows of his office overlooking the Little Man River, but it was without focus. He’d heard all about the body they’d found this morning, but it had gone in one ear and out the other. He had a much bigger problem, and for once, it was something the Caulfield fortune couldn’t fix.
His great-great-great grandfather Wilson Caulfield had immigrated to North America from England in the mid-eighteen hundreds, investing all he had into mining and lumber and made a fortune his heirs continued to grow. It had given Justin an opulent life and an edge he’d taken for granted.
Caulfield Industries kept the city of Caulfield alive and prosperous, except for the people who worked the mines. They were the have-nots who lived on the south side of Little Man, leaving the north side to the well-to-do.
The northern residents called the settlement across the river Coal Town, and the south, being less concerned with names and more concerned about putting enough food on the tables to feed their families bore the name with silent indignity.
But Justin’s concern at the moment was personal and involved his only child - his fourteen year old daughter, Callie, who was on the verge of dying.
Before Callie’s diagnosis two weeks ago, they’d spent months in the corporate jet going from state to state – hospital to hospital, and he’d spent hundreds of thousands of dollars on specialists trying to find out what was wrong with her.
Her symptoms began with her feeling slightly listless and fatigued, to constant nausea, shortness of breath, and lately, coughing up blood. By the time they finally had a diagnosis, Justin considered it closer to a death sentence than he might be able to handle.
According to the team of doctors who made the diagnosis, she had an auto-immune disease called Goodpasture’s Syndrome. The cause was not fully understood, but researchers had theories ranging from an inherited factor, to exposure to deadly chemicals, and even the possibility of something viral.
The symptoms were many and varied, while often mistaken for the flu, but the bottom line was bleeding in her lungs and the danger of renal failure.
The treatments ranged from oral immunosuppressive drugs to the use of a process called plasmapheresis, which basically involved cleaning her blood of the lethal antibodies by separating the red and white cells from her plasma, then putting them back into a plasma substitute and returning the clean stuff to her body. The process seemed like a scene out of a bad Frankenstein movie, but he wouldn’t argue if they could just make it work.
A couple of weeks ago he’d called his mother, Amelia for help and she’d come from her opulent retirement home in Florida back to Caulfield without hesitation to help in anyway possible.
Last night Justin had spent his time in Callie’s room cursing God. Her struggles to breathe were brutal to witness. And if that wasn’t enough, as the doctors had warned, her kidneys were failing. If she survived the treatment, she would most likely need a kidney transplant, but only if they managed to stop the bleeding in her lungs before she bled out and died. He was sick at heart and as mad at God as he’d ever been.
Today he felt like an old man. Callie was the future of Caulfield Industries, and if Callie died, there would be no one left to take his place, because his ability to father children was over, as well.
When Callie was seven, he got an infection. Before they could stop it, he lost the function of one kidney and rendered him sterile. Should Callie get to the point of needing a kidney transplant, he would not be able to donate, and should she not survive, the Caulfield dynasty ended with him.
His fingers curled into fists as he pounded the windowsill. A vein rose in his neck, pulsing vividly from the sudden rage that engulfed him.
“Damn you, God. You want to hurt someone? Hurt me. Don’t take it out on an innocent child.”
In the middle of his rage, there was a knock at the door. He turned away from the window, pulling himself together with the mastery born of years of practice as his secretary entered.
“I’m sorry to interrupt, Mr. Caulfield, but there is a detective from the police department who would like to speak with you.”
“Show him in.”
Justin was all cordiality and smiles as he seated the man across from his desk then settled back into his own chair. “Detective Harmon, right? I remember you from the policemen’s ball.”
Harmon, a three-year veteran of the force was pleased that Caulfield knew him.
“Yes sir.”
“How can I help you?” Justin asked.
“I’m sure you know by now that we pulled a body out of the river this morning.”
“No sir. It was not. We’ve got a murder on our hands.”
Justin eyes registered surprise. “Murder! Really?”
“Yes sir, three bullets in the body.”
“I am sorry to hear this. So what is it you need from me? Is the family in crisis? Are they going to need someone to pay for the burial?”
“That’s real generous of you, Mr. Caulfield, but it’s not why I came. The deceased has been identified as one of your former employees. A man named Jessup Sadler.”
Justin frowned. “I’m sorry, Detective, but the name isn’t familiar to me. I employ thousands of people across the state. Surely you understand.”
“Yes, sir, I do. But we were told the man had been working for you at Caulfield #14 for more almost thirty years. He was up for retirement in a couple of months, but was fired last week. He lost his pension and his health insurance, which would have been a terrible blow to the family since his wife is in the hospital dying of cancer. We thought, considering the drama of the circumstances, you might have remembered why he was fired, or who he might have had a grudge against.”
“Ah, I see where you’re going. Okay, just a moment.”
Justin picked up his cell phone and scrolled through the contacts until he came to the name Tom Bonaventure, who was the foreman of Caulfield #14, then gave Harmon the info.
“I’m sorry I’m not familiar with the personnel problems, but I really don’t involve myself in the day-to-day issues of the mines. I will let Bonaventure know you’re coming and that he’s to cooperate fully with your investigation.”
“Thank you, Mr. Caulfield. We appreciate your assistance,” Harmon said, and stood up.
“Happy to help,” Justin said, as he walked him to the door. “As for the victim’s wife, that’s an unfortunate situation. I don’t know the details of his dismissal but I’m not comfortable about the timing of when he was let go. I’ll make sure his wife’s medical bills are paid and his family is cared for. Under the circumstances, it seems only fair that they still get his pension, as well.”
“That’s real generous of you,” Harmon said.
“Not a problem. I’ll have my legal department take care of it,” he said. “Have a good day, Detective,” and then closed the door and returned to the desk to put in a call to Bonaventure. It rang twice before the call was picked up.
“Caulfield #14, Bonaventure speaking.”
“Tom, this is Justin Caulfield. Thought I’d give you a heads up. The local police will be paying you a visit shortly.”
Bonaventure was nursing a hangover and trying to hide the fact. Hearing the cops were on the way didn’t help his misery.
“What’s going on?”
“We had a man on payroll named Jessup Sadler?”
Bonaventure frowned. “Yes. Why?”
“They pulled his body out of the Little Man this morning. He’d been murdered.”
“Oh, man. That’s awful. I liked Jessup. He’s the one I fired last week for coming to work drunk.”
Justin frowned at the news. He turned toward the windows and looked down just as the detective bolted from the building and made a run through the downpour for his car.
“While it’s company policy to fire a man who’s drunk on the job and I know it’s well within your authority to make that judgment, you should have taken his time on the job into consideration and simply asked him to turn in his retirement papers a couple of months early. He gave thirty years of his life to the company. Firing him like that will give the company a bad name, like we’re cheating him out of what he’d rightfully earned.”
Bonaventure felt his testicles drawing so far up his ass he wasn’t sure if he’d ever be the same, and was immediately thankful Caulfield couldn’t smell his breath.
“Yes sir. I understand. If there’s another incident, I’ll check with you first.”
“Thank you. Carry on,” he said, and disconnected.
The problem that had arisen had just been neatly solved. Delegation of duties was one of Justin’s best traits.
Chapter Two
The chatter on the police radio was disconcerting. It made Poppy wonder what the code was for finding dead bodies then wondered how these men lived and worked at a job where everything was a matter of life and death.
Because of Jessup Sadler’s chosen lifestyle, she’d grown up with the possibility of cave-ins at the mine. She’d always known that death could be imminent. But it had never seemed real until this morning, and never had she imagined her daddy would become a murder victim. She hoped God was happy about the lesson she was supposed to learn because right now she was pissed.
The farther she rode, the more her shock dissipated, leaving nothing behind but pure rage. They’d had months to mentally prepare for her mother’s passing, but this had taken her completely by surprise. She didn’t know who she was madder at – the person who’d murdered her daddy, or God for letting it happen. As they stopped for a red light, she realized they were almost at the restaurant.
“If you take the next right into that alley it will take me to the back door of the restaurant. Vic doesn’t like the help coming in the front door and parading through the dining area. He’s already going to be mad at me for being late, so there’s no need adding to the issue.”
Mike frowned. “Vic Payton who used to wait tables here is your boss?”
“Yes, since just before Easter.”
“How do you go from waiter to boss in five short months?”
“You get engaged to the owner’s daughter,” Poppy said. “Turn here.”
Mike glanced at her profile. Except for a complete lack of color in her face, it would have been impossible to tell her world had been decimated.
He took the turn into the alley then stopped at the back door to the restaurant. The downpour was incessant. He was hesitant to let her leave, and yet had no real reason to stop her. The weather sucked, but it wasn’t weather that was breaking her heart.
“Here’s my card, Miss Sadler. If you need anything, anything at all, feel free to call.”
Poppy dropped it in her purse. “Thank you for the ride.”
She jumped out, slamming the door behind her, and within two steps was inside.
Duroy got out and into the seat she’d just vacated. He couldn’t remember being this cold and wet.
“So, what do you think?” he asked.
Mike was watching the windshield wipers uselessly swiping at the downpour. “I think life just kicked her in the teeth.”
“Yeah, she got a rough deal for sure,” Duroy said. “Where to next?”
“Saint Anne’s. We need to see if Sadler’s car is there and if there’s security footage showing him coming and going. Maybe we’ll get lucky and see him leaving with someone.”
“Luck is good,” Duroy said.
“It’s a place to start,” Mike said, gave the back door to the restaurant one last glance.
He kept telling himself Poppy Sadler was a big girl from a tough side of town and not some delicate little socialite, but he still felt guilty as he drove away.
****
Vic Payton liked his fiancé, Michelle, well enough, definitely coveted her family’s social standing, and loved the power that came with his new position. He’d always had a thing for Poppy Sadler, but she’d never given him the time of day – or anyone else at the restaurant, for that matter. She was friendly and polite and did her job, but she came across as cold as ice. She didn’t party. She didn’t hang out with the other women on the job. She just worked her shifts and went back across that bridge to Coal Town like it was heaven on earth and he didn’t get it.
Vic had been born in Coal Town and spent most of his twenty-seven years trying to get out. When the opportunity presented itself, he took it and the boss’s daughter with open arms. Now he had to make good to keep Michelle happy and prove he was worth the promoti
on he’d been given, which meant reading Poppy the riot act if she ever showed up.
Everyone on the morning shift knew Poppy had called in this morning. They all assumed it was because of the weather and that she just wanted to sleep in. It had set a sour tone for the rest of the crew. They were going to be watching him to see how he handled it if she ever came in. And he was ready. He’d do what he had to. Just because she was pretty didn’t mean she got a free pass. Not on his watch.
When she finally appeared on the floor he excused himself from a customer and strode toward her.
****
Poppy caught up with Jewel, the other waitress on her shift, at the coffee urns. The fifty-something woman was the no-nonsense type and prided herself on never missing a day of work. She gave Poppy a cool glance and then kept pouring fresh water into the coffee urn.
“I see you decided to show up,” she said.
Without elaborating, Poppy picked up an order pad and slipped it in her pocket.
“Finally caught a ride in. Sonny said you’d been covering my tables. I owe you one.”
“Whatever,” Jewel said. “I’ll finish out the tables being served to get my tips and then they’re all yours.”
Poppy was oblivious to the chill in the woman’s voice. It was all she could do just to focus.
Then Vic tapped the counter behind her.
“Poppy! In the kitchen.”
Too numb to be concerned, she followed him through the swinging doors.
He’d barely cleared the dining area before he turned and unloaded, right in front of Sonny the chef and his assistants.
“I don’t tolerate tardiness and you know it. I assume you have a good excuse for showing up two and a half hours late for work?”
Poppy had one – two actually – but she didn’t feel like sharing. If she said it aloud, it would make it final and she had yet to get to that state of mind.
“I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”
Vic glared. “That’s all you’ve got? I’m sorry?”
