“You’ve left two names off your list,” Dickce said, her tone bland.
“Who are you talking about?” An’gel asked, confused.
“You and me,” Dickce replied with a mischievous smile. “As I recall, we both found Hadley sinfully attractive. For a while there he seemed to be paying a lot of attention to you, and you weren’t doing anything to discourage him.” She giggled. “I was pretty jealous, if you want to know the truth. He never flirted with me the way he did with you. The question is, how far beyond flirtation did you go?”
An’gel stared at her sister, momentarily speechless as long-suppressed memories came flooding back. She felt the heat of a flush stealing over her face, and she wanted to get up and walk out of the room. Instead she remained seated and tried to will those memories away.
“Don’t worry,” Dickce said. “I’m not going to press you for details. Your expression just now tells me enough.”
An’gel’s phone rang, and she snatched it up, thankful for the distraction. She recognized Kanesha Berry’s number.
After a quick exchange of greetings, Kanesha said, “I don’t have good news, I’m afraid. When we reached Mrs. Turnipseed’s house, we found it empty. The police department is talking to neighbors to see if any of them saw something, but at the moment we don’t have anything. There was no sign of a struggle, and her car is gone. She might have gotten scared and left on her own.”
“I hope so,” An’gel said. “But there is a possibility that she was forced to leave, I presume?”
“Yes,” Kanesha replied. “We have to consider that, and we will be looking for her. I’ll be in touch when we know more.” She ended the call.
An’gel set the phone down again and regarded her sister. She repeated what Kanesha told her.
“Presumably she had a friend or a family member she could go to,” Dickce said. “We’ll simply have to hope that is what she’s done.”
“Instead of being abducted and taken somewhere to be murdered.” An’gel shuddered. “I didn’t care for her but I certainly wouldn’t wish that on anyone.”
“Surely one of the neighbors saw something,” Dickce said. “There’s nothing we can do for her at the moment except pray.” After a brief silence she continued, “Now, back to Hadley.”
An’gel tensed. She didn’t want to be subjected to an inquisition by her sister. She didn’t want to lie to Dickce, but neither did she want to tell her the complete truth. There were some memories she didn’t wish to share, even with her sister.
Dickce smiled. “Like I said, I’m not going to press you for details about what went on between you and Hadley. You can stop looking so apprehensive.”
“Thank you,” An’gel said, greatly relieved. She wouldn’t put it past Dickce, however, to bring the subject up again in the future. “Hadley is going to have to come clean, there’s no way around it. I hate to say this, but I think he knows exactly what happened to Callie and how she came to be buried in the garden at Ashton Hall.”
“I suspect you may be right,” Dickce said. “I hate to think that about Hadley, though.”
“If he’s covering up for his brother’s crime, I suppose I can understand it, at least in part,” An’gel said. “Though the greater part of me knows he shouldn’t have let his brother get away with murder.”
“No, he shouldn’t have,” Dickce said. “But what if Hamish didn’t kill Callie? He certainly couldn’t have killed Sarinda, or driven Arliss off the road. Unless you think there are two murderers, Hamish forty years ago, and someone else now.”
“That’s certainly a possibility,” An’gel said. “But what I can’t figure out, if that’s the case, is why the murder and attempted murder now? Hamish is dead, and what harm could there be, really, if it became known he murdered Callie?”
“It would tarnish the family name, certainly,” Dickce said, “but would Hadley kill for that reason?”
“I just don’t know.” An’gel frowned. “I think Hadley is the key to all this, though.”
“Even more reason for us to try to pin him down on everything he knows,” Dickce said.
An’gel heard a muffled ringing. “Is that your phone?” she asked.
Dickce reached into the pocket of her skirt and retrieved her phone. “Benjy,” she said after a glance at the screen. “Have you found anything?”
An’gel watched as Dickce’s eyes widened in what appeared to be shock. “What is it? What did he find?”
CHAPTER 23
Dickce held up her hand to quiet her sister. She wanted to be sure she heard everything Benjy had to tell her. Once he finished, she said, “Oh, that’s wonderful, Benjy.” She paused for a moment. “No, come on home when you’re done. We’ll work out then what our next step is.”
She could see that An’gel was fairly bouncing with impatience on the sofa when she ended the call and tucked the phone back into her skirt pocket.
“Well?” An’gel said.
Dickce smiled. “He’s such a clever young man. He found a lead on Coriander Simpson.”
“Don’t just sit there grinning,” An’gel said when her sister failed to continue. “Give me the details.”
“Benjy figured that Coriander Simpson was probably a unique name, and he was right,” Dickce said. “He searched genealogical databases for birth records and so on, and he found one for her. Of course it had her parents’ names listed, too. Then he looked at census records and some kind of online phone directory and found the address in Memphis where she grew up. He thinks her family still lives there.”
“Did he find any other record of her?” An’gel asked. “Like a death or marriage record?”
Dickce shook her head. “Not that he said. I’m sure he would have mentioned it if he had. He’s going to do a bit more research before he comes home.”
“Call him back,” An’gel said. “I think we need to act on this right now.”
“What do you mean?” Dickce pulled her phone back out.
“I think we need to go to Memphis this afternoon. We can be there in less than ninety minutes.”
“We can go to the address Benjy found and talk to whomever we find there,” Dickce said. “Good idea. Wait a minute, though. What about Hadley? You were really determined to talk to him a few minutes ago.”
An’gel frowned. “Yes, I do think it’s important to pin him down.” She thought for a moment. “Why don’t you go talk to Hadley this afternoon? I’ll go to Memphis and track down Coriander Simpson’s family.”
“No,” Dickce said. “I have a better idea. You go talk to Hadley, since he’s more likely to talk to you. You being a former flame of his and all.” She grinned. The opportunity to needle An’gel was too good to pass up. “Benjy and I will go to Memphis and find the Simpsons.”
For a moment Dickce thought An’gel was going to have one of her occasional temper fits. She did that sometimes when she didn’t get her way. Evidently she thought better of it this time, though. After a brief hesitation, An’gel nodded. “All right. I’ll talk to Hadley. You go to Memphis.”
Dickce called Benjy and informed him of the change in plans. “He’ll be home in about twenty minutes,” she informed An’gel.
“Excellent.” An’gel stood. “I’ll go tell Clementine. We can all have lunch in the kitchen, and then you and Benjy can be on your way to Memphis.”
Dickce watched her sister’s retreating form and smiled. She was excited at the thought of the trip to Memphis. Usually when she and An’gel went someplace together, An’gel tended to take over, and Dickce ended up playing second fiddle. Not this time, though. Dickce loved her older sister, but she also appreciated an opportunity to accomplish a task without An’gel.
She thought for a moment about An’gel and Hadley. She knew there was a story there somewhere, but she didn’t know exactly how far the flirtation between her sister and Hadley had gone. She
understood why An’gel was reluctant to share details. They both had secrets of their own. Dickce smiled fondly whenever she thought of a certain young British aristocrat whose family she and An’gel had met nearly fifty years ago on an extended visit to England. Had she wanted to spend the rest of her life in England, Dickce had no doubt she could have married Nigel. She simply couldn’t see herself as the lady of an English manor and a countess to boot. She preferred Riverhill to Nigel’s drafty, moldering pile in Lancashire.
So let An’gel keep her memories of Hadley to herself. Dickce had never told An’gel all the details about Nigel. Dickce’s smile broadened as she rose and followed her sister to the kitchen.
An hour later, Dickce and Benjy were on the road to Memphis, accompanied by Peanut and Endora, safely anchored in the backseat of Benjy’s car. He had insisted on driving, and Dickce didn’t argue. They wouldn’t arrive in Memphis as soon, but Benjy could use the experience of driving on the interstate highway and in a large city.
An’gel had objected to their taking the dog and the cat with them, but Dickce had disagreed. “We can’t leave them for Clementine to babysit all the time,” she pointed out reasonably. “She has other things to do, and I don’t imagine she wants Peanut and Endora helping her. Nor would she want to coop them up in one part of the house while she’s working in another.”
When Clementine agreed, tactfully but firmly, An’gel ceased her protests. Peanut and Endora came along for the adventure.
As they sped north on the interstate, Benjy kept his attention focused on his driving. Dickce wished he would drive faster, but he set the cruise control on the speed limit, and that was that.
“What should our strategy be?” Benjy asked. “Are we going to show up on their doorstep and start asking questions?”
“I’ve been thinking about that,” Dickce said. “Once we get to Memphis we can look for somewhere to stop near their neighborhood and call them. You put the address in the GPS, didn’t you?”
Benjy nodded. “We shouldn’t have any trouble finding the address. What are we going to say is the reason we’re looking for Coriander Simpson?”
“That’s the tricky part,” Dickce said. “She could actually be living there now, though I think that would be too big a coincidence. I don’t think it’s going to be that easy to find her.”
“You never know,” Benjy said. “She may have no idea anyone from Athena is interested in her whereabouts.”
“Maybe,” Dickce said. “We’ll have to see. Now, as to what we will tell her family.” She thought for a moment. “We could tell her that Hamish Partridge had left her a small legacy, and we are helping his lawyer track her down.”
Benjy shook his head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Peanut woofed, and Benjy and Dickce laughed. “I guess Peanut agrees with me.”
“He usually takes your side.” Dickce laughed again. “Why don’t you think it’s a good idea?”
“There’s no legacy, as far as we know. We’re making it up. If we do manage to find her, she’s going to be upset when she discovers we were lying about the inheritance.”
“Good point.” Dickce sighed. “What do you think we should tell them?”
Benjy didn’t respond until he had safely passed a slower-moving vehicle in front of them. Once the car was back in the right lane, he said, “Why don’t we simply tell them that Hadley Partridge came home after his brother died, and he is concerned about his sister-in-law’s whereabouts. We want to talk to Coriander Simpson to see whether she can tell us anything about that.”
“That’s what we should do,” Dickce said. “I should have thought of that, instead of trying to come up with a more convoluted reason. Maybe I’m not as good at being Nancy Drew as I thought.”
Benjy flashed her a grin and then returned his attention to the road ahead. “No one is as good at being Nancy Drew as Nancy was. No one else is as perfect.”
Dickce chuckled. “I guess you’re right. Still, good for you for coming up with the best plan.” Peanut woofed again, and Dickce laughed along with Benjy.
Thirty minutes later they approached the outskirts of Memphis. Their destination was in the southeastern part of the city. They found a park a few blocks from the Simpson residence, and Benjy pulled the car up to the curb. “I’m going to take Peanut for a short walk,” he said. “Just in case. You can call while I do that.”
“Okay,” Dickce said. “No, Endora, you have to stay with me.”
Peanut whined when he realized the cat wasn’t coming with them, but Benjy led him firmly away from the car. Endora meowed loudly three times before she settled down and started grooming herself.
Dickce picked up the piece of paper on which Benjy had written the phone number he found for the Simpsons. She took a couple of deep breaths before she punched the number into her phone.
A young-sounding voice answered after five rings. “Hello. This is the Simpson residence. Who’s calling, please?”
“Hello, my name is Dickce Ducote. I am looking for Coriander Simpson. I need to talk to her about someone she knew many years ago.”
“Hang on a minute,” the young voice said. “I got to ask my great-granny.”
Dickce waited for what seemed like five minutes but was probably less than one.
“As long as you ain’t no bill collector, my great-granny says you can come talk to her. She don’t like talking on the phone. She don’t hear so good, even with her hearing aid turned all the way up.”
Dickce smiled at the child’s words. She—or he?—was probably no more than five or six, she reckoned.
“Please thank your great-granny,” Dickce said. “You can tell her I’m not a bill collector. We’ll be there in a few minutes.”
“All right. I’ll tell her.” The phone clicked in Dickce’s ear.
Benjy returned a couple of minutes later with Peanut. Dickce informed him of her successful phone call, and they headed to the Simpson house.
The neighborhood appeared to be an older one. Dickce judged that the houses were at least fifty or sixty years old. Most were in good repair, with neat yards, though a few could use some fresh paint. When Benjy pulled into the driveway of the Simpson residence, Dickce noted that the house appeared better kept than some of its neighbors on the street.
Dickce spotted a little girl on the porch. She was tiny, and Dickce revised her age downward to four. She had several short braids, each fastened with a colorful bow, and she wore sneakers and a bright yellow overalls and a red T-shirt under them. She waved at Dickce as she got out of the car.
“Good afternoon,” Dickce said as she approached the porch. “I called a few minutes ago. Was it you I talked to?”
“Yes’m,” the child said. “I’m Monique. I’ll be five in three months. How old are you?”
Dickce was slightly taken aback. “I’m much older than four or five,” she said.
Monique’s attention was already diverted, Dickce realized.
“Is that your dog?” the little girl asked.
“Yes, that’s Peanut,” Dickce said. “Would you like to meet him?”
Monique nodded. “He can come in if he wants to. Great-granny likes dogs, too.”
“Does she like cats?” Dickce asked. “I have a cat, too, and she’s in the car with Peanut.”
Monique frowned. “I don’t think so. Great-granny don’t like cats.”
“All right,” Dickce said. “The cat can stay in the car.” Endora wouldn’t be happy about that, but Dickce couldn’t risk offending Great-granny.
“Excuse me a moment while I get Peanut,” Dickce said.
“Yes’m.” Monique nodded.
Dickce went back to the car and explained the situation to Benjy. He looked a bit disappointed but said, “That’s okay. I’ll stay here and keep Endora company.”
“I’m sorry, but thank you.” Dickce opened the
back door. She took firm hold of the dog’s leash and guided him out.
Monique appeared slightly fearful when Peanut approached. After a moment she extended a hand, and the Labradoodle sniffed it and then licked it. Monique giggled. “That tickles.”
“Perhaps we should go in and say hello to Great-granny,” Dickce said. Monique seemed so entranced by the dog she had forgotten the reason for Dickce’s visit.
“Yes’m,” Monique said. “Y’all come right on in. Great-granny’s in here watching television.”
Dickce and Peanut followed the little girl inside the house. The interior was as neatly kept as the outside, and there was a pleasant smell of furniture wax and vanilla. Monique led them through the first doorway to the right, and said, “Here they are” in a loud voice.
An elderly, white-haired woman, encased in a shawl and covered by a crocheted blanket, turned her head in the direction of the child’s voice. Dark eyes gazed with curiosity through thick-lensed glasses. Dickce reckoned her to be in her late nineties.
“Good afternoon,” she said, her voice surprisingly strong.
“Good afternoon, Mrs. Simpson,” Dickce said. She moved forward and extended her hand. “My name is Dickce Ducote.”
Mrs. Simpson shook Dickce’s hand briefly. Like her great-granddaughter, however, she appeared more interested in the dog. “That’s a beautiful dog you got there, Miss Ducote.” She reached out to stroke Peanut’s head. He woofed gently at her in response.
“Thank you,” Dickce said. “He’s sweet and friendly.”
Mrs. Simpson continued to stroke the dog’s head. “I miss having a dog. Can’t rightly take care of one myself these days, and Monique is too little right now to help, though the Lord knows she’s a blessing to me in every way.”
Monique had disappeared, Dickce realized. Where had the child gone?”
“Please sit down, Miss Ducote,” Mrs. Simpson said. “I’m forgetting my manners. Now, Monique said you want to find my daughter, Coriander.”
Dickce seated herself on a nearby chair before she replied. “Yes, ma’am. Many years ago she worked for a friend of mine, Calpurnia Partridge, down in Athena.”
Digging Up the Dirt Page 16
