A Field of Poppies
Page 11
“It’s back in one piece, safe and sound and full of gas. I can’t thank you enough for the loan, not to mention staying here for all this.”
“Oh sugar, I was happy to help,” Gladys said. “You have quite a list on the kitchen table and I made a second list of all the people who’ve called. They don’t expect you to call back. I just thought you’d want to know.”
“I do. I really appreciate it.”
Gladys untied the apron then laid it in Poppy’s hands. “I’ll be getting on home now. Give you some time to yourself and maybe get you some of that good food in the kitchen. Didn’t you say John was coming?”
“Yes, ma’am. He’ll be here some time tonight.”
“Good. I don’t like to think of you here all by yourself. Now if either of you need anything at all you just give us a call.”
“I will.”
Gladys patted Poppy’s cheek, grabbed her jacket and purse and was out the door. Poppy locked it behind her, then, for a moment, stood in the silence and closed her eyes.
She could hear a faint sound of running water and realized the plunger on the toilet was probably stuck again. Sometimes you had to jiggle it to make it shut off. She recognized the scent of freshly brewed coffee, but there were other more enticing scents of something hot and sweet. She could almost hear her mama’s voice, calling out.
Baby? Is that you? We’re in the kitchen. Come on in.
Poppy pinched the bridge of her nose to stop a fresh set of tears, headed for the bathroom to check the toilet then went into her room to change.
A few minutes later she entered the kitchen wearing a pair of faded jeans and a long-sleeved t-shirt. Her house shoes were old fleece-lined moccasins. After being on her feet all day, she craved comfort and familiarity, and maybe a piece of pie to hold her over until supper.
It was a little like potluck dinner at church as she sorted through the foil covered bowls to see what was here, but she didn’t stop until she found the desserts. After poking her finger in a couple to test for taste, she settled on a piece of coconut cream pie, poured a glass of milk, and headed for the living room to eat.
Gladys had been watching the movie channel, and although the sound had been muted, the movie was still playing. Poppy sat then upped the volume as she took her first bite. The pie was sweet. The milk was cold. When she realized it was an old John Wayne movie, the food suddenly stuck in the back of her throat. Daddy’s favorite movie star had been John Wayne. Even though the actor had been dead for years, his movies lived on. Her vision blurred as she set the food aside. Now Daddy was gone, too. Was there enough love left between her and Johnny to keep their family alive, or would Johnny disappear on her like he had on Mama? She was afraid to be alone.
Gunshots rang out. Poppy jumped then realized it was the movie. A poor choice considering the way Jessup Sadler had died. She muted the western, then leaned back against the sofa and closed her eyes.
Less than a minute later, there was a knock at the door.
She wiped away tears as she went to the door, expecting to see someone she knew, not a stranger with a briefcase.
“Yes?”
“My name is Graham Ring, of Ring and Padgett Law offices. I need to speak with the Sadler family.”
“That would be me,” Poppy said.
“May I come in?” he asked.
She hesitated, then shrugged and stepped back. The way she was feeling, if he was an axe murderer and did her in, he would be doing her a favor.
“Have a seat,” Poppy said.
He sat at one end of the sofa. Poppy sat at the other.
“First, I would like to offer my condolences to your family at this most tragic of times.”
Still in the dark as to why the man was here, she folded her hands in her lap.
“Thank you.”
The lawyer took a folder out of his briefcase, removed a check, and handed it to Poppy.
“As of today, your father’s pension is in full effect. Ordinarily a pension would have been paid to the widow of the deceased for the rest of her life, but since she has sadly passed on the same day as Mr. Sadler’s death, Mr. Caulfield has very generously instructed us to pay it out to you for as long as you are a resident of Caulfield.”
Poppy stared at the check in disbelief. As much as she needed it, she knew this was a mistake. She handed the check back.
“I’m sorry, but you’ve made a mistake. Mr. Caulfield fired my father a week ago which was before his death, ending not only his chance for a pension, but his health insurance as well.
The lawyer handed the check back to Poppy.
“Mr. Caulfield has been made aware of the circumstances, but was in deep sympathy for your situation and rescinded the act. He is also taking care of the outstanding debts for your mother’s medical bills, as well as any costs you will accrue for the two funerals.”
Poppy was in shock. “Why?”
“I can’t speak for Mr. Caulfield personally, but I’m sure this was his way of expressing his sympathies.”
Poppy stared at the numbers on the check, and then back up at the lawyer.
“This would have been the amount of Daddy’s monthly pension when he retired?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“And I’m getting this same amount every month as long as I maintain residence in this city?”
“Yes, that is correct.”
Poppy was stunned, and at the same time furious. This felt like blood money. Caulfield was acting out of guilt, not sympathy.
Graham Ring knew what this money would mean to someone who lived in Coal Town. Considering what this young woman must have been going through for the past forty-eight hours, he was glad to be the bearer of some good news. When she had no further comment, he decided his job was done.
“I won’t bother you any longer,” he said as he stood. “Again, I’m so sorry for your loss.”
Poppy walked him to the door. She doubted that their paths would ever cross again, but there was something she felt compelled to ask before he left.
“Mr. Ring, before you leave, may I ask you something?”
“Why, certainly.”
“If Daddy had not been murdered, do you think this would be happening?
Ring felt a flush coming up his neck. There was no way to answer that truthfully and still keep his job.
“I have no way of knowing that, Miss Sadler.”
Poppy saw the red spots on the lawyer’s cheeks. The fact that he suddenly shifted his gaze to the toes of his shoes was answer enough.
“That’s what I thought,” she said.
Ring started to leave and then stopped again. “It is what it is, Miss Sadler. You need it. You have it. I’m happy to have been the bearer of a bit of good news.”
Once he left, Poppy looked back at the check - a single piece of paper with a few lines of words and numbers – an inconsequential item bearing the weight of someone’s guilt. She didn’t know which was worse – that Justin Caulfield had basically just paid them off to assuage his conscience, or that she’d let him do it.
She put the check in her purse and then carried her uneaten pie into the kitchen and put it in the refrigerator. Maybe she’d eat it another day when the bitter taste in her mouth was gone. She glanced at the clock. It was nearly 6:00. Where was Johnny?
Chapter Nine
Coal Town - 7:30 p.m.
It was dark and the houses in Coal Town were lit from within as families went about the business of their daily lives. Dark was kind to this side of town, shrouding the wear and tear of the neighborhoods while the lights inside the homes made them appear warm and festive.
But it was a thin façade between the truth and the rest of the world. Men still fought with their wives, as the addicts shot up or snorted the drug of choice behind dingy gray curtains. Children sat down hungry to meager sustenance and got up from the table the same way. Some of them were already alone for the night as the single parent in the household went off to a second job.
They had intended to divide the list and each go their own way, but the Lieutenant had ordered otherwise. It wasn’t wise for a cop to go into Coal Town alone, especially after dark. During the last hour and a half they’d gone to the houses of seven of the twelve men on the list, and only two of them had been forthcoming. The others had clammed up and glared at the detectives without having anything helpful to say.
“That went well,” Kenny said, as the eighth man also claimed ignorance.
Mike shrugged. “Did you think it would be otherwise?”
“I guess not, but you would think if you’d worked with a guy for all those years and then he gets murdered, you’d want to do anything you could to help find the killer.”
“Unless you’re the killer, or you just don’t want to get involved,” Mike said.
Kenny slid into the passenger seat and buckled up as Mike started the car.
“Who’s next?” Mike asked.
“Carl Crane. 774 South Bellwood. Give me a sec. I’m putting it in the GPS.”
With their directions in place, Mike drove off. He didn’t realize until he turned a corner that they were coming up on the Sadler residence.
“Hey, isn’t that Sadler house?” Kenny asked, pointing to the only house on the block with a porch light burning.
“Yes, I guess it is,” Mike said, and fought the urge to stop as they drove past.
“She’s got the porch light on. Probably had a steady stream of visitors all day.”
“Probably,” Mike said.
He glanced down at the GPS, took the next right. A few minutes later they pulled up at the residence. The lights were on inside the house and there were two cars in the yard. At least they were home.
As soon as they parked, a dog started barking.
“Damn dogs,” Kenny muttered. “I don’t want to get bit.”
Mike glanced over his shoulder. “It’s the dog across the street and it’s on a chain.”
“Whatever,” Kenny said, and followed Mike to the front door.
Someone had been grilling. The scent of charcoal and cooking meat still lingered in the damp night air. The sky was dark and overcast - the quarter moon hidden behind a bank of slow moving clouds.
“Feels like fall,” Mike said, as he knocked, then stepped back.
“Football weather,” Kenny said.
Mike grinned. Kenny did love his sports.
They kept waiting for someone to answer the door, but the television was so loud inside that they could hear it word for word.
“Whoever’s inside has to be half-deaf. Knock again,” Kenny said.
Mike pounded a little harder, and within seconds, the TV was muted and they could hear footsteps, then the porch light came on. The door swung inward, revealing a short, stocky man with a tuft of graying hair around the back of his head and a greasy comb-over.
“Good evening, Sir,” Mike said, flashing his badge. “Are you Carl Crane?”
“Yep, that’s me,” Carl said.
“I’m Detective Amblin and this is my partner, Detective Duroy. We’re investigating Jessup Sadler’s murder. We’ve been making the rounds tonight trying to talk to everyone he worked with. You worked the same shift at the Caulfield mine, correct?”
“Yep, yep, I did.”
“May we come inside for a minute? I only have a few questions.”
The little man stepped aside. “Sure, sure, come on in. Jessup was a good friend. We’re all tore up about what happened.”
Finally, someone who cared about the man, Mike thought.
“This here’s my wife, Hannah. She was friends with Jessup’s wife, Helen. It’s almost more than a body can imagine that them two would die on the same day, but not together... like in a wreck or something. Know what I mean?”
“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Crane. Yes sir, it was a tragic occurrence.”
“Ya’ll take a seat,” Hannah said.
“Thank you, ma’am,” Kenny said. At least this couple was friendly, whether they knew anything or not.
Mike waited until Carl sat down.
“I’ll get straight to the point,” Mike said. “Did Jessup Sadler have any enemies at the mine, or someone he’d had a recent fight with?”
Carl shook his head. “No sir, not to my knowledge. We all got along on that shift.”
“We were told he got fired for being drunk on the job.”
Carl hesitated then shrugged a little, as if to say this was no big deal.
“Plenty of men have come to work a little hung-over and the like. Jessup used to drink in the old days, but he hadn’t had a drink in years.”
“Had he been drinking the day he got fired?”
“I guess. Maybe a little, but he wasn’t falling down drunk or nothing like that. Hell, even the shift boss drinks some.”
Mike scanned his notes. “Are you talking about Tom Bonaventure?”
Carl’s eyes narrowed angrily. “Yeah, the weasel. Course, he don’t go down below anymore, but the rule oughta apply to everyone or no one at all. Right?”
“Did Bonaventure have a grudge against him?”
“Not that I knew of,” Carl said. “Bonaventure is a pussy. He used to work a regular shift like the rest of us and then he got promoted. He’s been a pain in the ass ever since, but I never saw him single anyone out and give them a hard time.”
Mike kept making notes as Carl talked. When he paused, Mike took the questions in a different direction.
“On Jessup’s last day at work, did he say anything to you when he arrived that would explain why he’d started drinking after such a long dry spell?”
Carl shrugged. “We figured it was just because of Helen. She was barely hanging on and it was killing him to watch her die like that.”
“So he didn’t say anything... anything at all about having a run-in with someone, or being hassled?”
“No.”
Hannah had been silent, but Carl was leaving out all kinds of stuff and she couldn’t be still any longer.
“Now Carl, what about the last time he was over to the house?”
Carl frowned. “What about it?”
Hannah rolled her eyes. “Carl is so hard of hearing that he probably missed that whole conversation. He can’t hear thunder you know, but he doesn’t like to admit it so he pretends he’s following the conversation right along with everyone else then blows his cover by bringing up the cost of gas or something when we’ve all been talking about a neighbor’s new baby.”
Mike hid a grin. That explained the loud TV.
“What about his last visit, Mrs. Crane?”
“His daughter was working late at The Depot so we had him over for supper. He was upset when he got here and I thought it was because Helen had taken a bad turn. But when I asked, he said no, she was holding her own. Then later, I heard him say something to Carl about the old days, like back when we were all in high school together. You see Jessup was older than the rest of us. He’d already been married, had a son, and buried his wife before Sunny graduated high school. Anyway, he asked Carl if he knew anything about what happened to Sunny the night of our senior prom.”
“Wait. Who’s Sunny?” Mike asked.
“Oh, sorry. That was Helen’s nickname. We called her that pretty much through all twelve years of school. It wasn’t until she graduated and went to work at the paper mill where her folks were employed that she began to go by her given name, Helen.”
Kenny glanced at Mike and arched an eyebrow, as if to say where the fuck is all this going?
Mike ignored him and let Hannah talk.
“So, did something happen to Sunny at your prom?”
Hannah pursed her lips and then quickly looked away. “I don’t know.”
Mike knew better. “Please, Mrs. Crane, whatever you
tell me could help us catch the person who murdered Jessup.”
Carl cleared his throat.
Hannah frowned. “It’s not right to speak ill of the dead.”
Kenny was tired of all the chit chat and abruptly entered into the conversation.
“Ma’am, if you know something, it’s your duty to tell. Just quit talking in riddles and spit it out.”
Hannah glared at him and set her jaw. She didn’t let any man tell her what to do.
“Mrs. Crane, what does the prom have to do with Jessup Sadler’s murder?” Mike asked.
Hannah turned away from Kenny as if dismissing him from the conversation and focused her attention on Mike.
“I don’t know that it has anything to do with it, but you asked if something had happened that might make Jessup take up drinking again and his behavior that night was not normal.”
“You’re right. I did. Please continue,” Mike said.
“Sunny was so pretty, but she didn’t have a date for the senior prom. Even though a bunch of us girls went solo, Sunny never lacked for partners at the dance. We were all having a grand time and then all of a sudden she was gone. We never saw her leave and I have no idea who she was dancing with before she left, but she didn’t come to school afterward for nearly a week. We were told she’d had food poisoning. She didn’t say anything different when she came back.”
“Why, after all these years, would Jessup suddenly become interested in something that happened over twenty years ago?”
“I don’t know. I’m just telling you what I heard Jessup ask Carl, okay?”
Mike was frustrated. This complicated everything. Either this had nothing to do with Jessup’s murder, or they had to look back to the past to find a reason for someone wanting him dead.
“Is there anything else you can remember about that evening?”
“Only that Jessup was unusually quiet, which again, I just chalked up to Helen’s condition.”
Mike stood, and Kenny followed suit, anxious to finish the names on the list and get home.
“Thank you both for your time. Here’s my card. If you think of anything else please give me a call,” Mike said.