Murder in North Carolina

by Agnes Alexander

  They walked to the end of the enclosure, but the grave wasn’t visible from either entrance.

  “What does that mean?”

  “I’m not sure. Maybe that he just came into the cemetery and chose the grave at random. But I have my doubts about that.”

  “Why?” She realized they were holding hands again. She didn’t remember taking his hand, but now that she was aware of it she didn’t pull hers away. She felt safe as long as he held on to her.

  “For one thing, look how far it is into the graveyard,” he answered her question. “He could have used a grave nearer to this side, but the one he chose is closer to the front and the other side. That means he had to carry the body a longer distance. If he’d wanted to use a random grave, he would have deposited the body earlier.”

  “Should we check out the name on the marker?”

  “We’ll do that when we get back.” Nick bent and looked at the ground. “There have probably been a hundred cars in here since that night.”

  He straightened and walked back up the side of the graveyard, keeping his eyes on the ground. After a minute, he paused. “I wonder why those tracks are so much closer to the fence than the others.”

  Rebecca looked where he pointed. He stopped at the next opening. “I think this is where he came in.”

  It was the next to the last opening in the fence. “Okay. I’m not going to ask why.”

  “Let’s go toward the grave now.” He smiled at her. “Scan the ground to your left as we walk. I’ll check on the right.”

  “What are we looking for?”

  “Anything you think might be out of place.”

  By the time they were half way back to the grave, they’d collected a nickel, two bottle caps, a pair of sunglasses, and a button. Nick halted at the bottom of a small family plot enclosed by its own wrought iron fence inside the larger cemetery.

  “Rebecca, look at this. Some type of material is snagged on the corner of the fence.” He pulled it loose and handed it to her. “What do you think it is?”

  She rubbed the cloth between her fingers. “Feels like a piece of good fabric from maybe a shirt or blouse, or even from a sheet. I’d say at least a three-fifty or four hundred thread count.”

  “If it’s from a sheet, it could have been used to wrap a body. Do you know what the thread count on your sister’s sheets are?”

  “No, but Mindy only used white sheets. And this was probably from a white sheet.”

  “I’m sure millions of people use white sheets, but…”

  When his voice trailed off, Rebecca asked, “But what?”

  “Chances are, not many brought one to this graveyard and snagged it on that fence.”

  She didn’t answer, and they moved forward.

  The rest of the distance netted them a broken bracelet, a shard of blue glass, and a piece of paper that seemed to be part of a deposit slip from a bank.

  The crowd had thinned to two by the time they reached the grave. Nick handed Rebecca the plastic bag with all the items to put into her purse.

  “I’m going to read the gravestone. Want to come?” He looked at her.

  “I do, but…”

  “It’s up to you. You don’t have to.”

  “Wait, I’m coming. Hold my hand.”

  Nick took her hand. She hated for him to feel her trembling, but was relieved when he tightened his grip. “I think we should make a note of everything engraved on the tombstone.”

  “Will you let me do that? It’ll help me concentrate on something besides the idea of my sister lying there.”

  “Okay. Got paper?”

  She dropped his hand and nodded. Soon she wrote the words on a note pad she’d found in her purse. As of yet, she hadn’t looked directly at the ground in front of the tombstone. Oh, Mindy. Why did it have to end like this? You had so much to live for. Was it your way of life that caused your death? Could I have done something to prevent it?

  She continued to write, though her eyes misted.

  To get her mind off Mindy, Rebecca reread the words she’d written. The grave was that of a young woman twenty-eight years old. The inscription read, Oh that I had wings like a dove! That I might fly to thou my companion, my guide, my sweet and loving wife.

  She paused and muttered, “There’s something familiar about those words. They must be from a famous poem or something.”

  A uniformed policeman walked up beside the yellow tape. His badge identified him as Officer Tinny.

  Nick walked over to him and pulled out his identification. “I’m Nick Quimbley from Winston-Salem. The lady with me is the sister of the deceased. She’s been active in the investigation and wanted to come with me to see where you found her sister. As soon as we’re finished, I’d like to come by the station and talk with the detective handling the case.”

  “That’ll be fine. I’ll let him know you’re coming. His name is Michael Whittington.” He looked toward Rebecca and said, “We come by daily to make sure nobody has destroyed the grave.”

  “That’s not a bad idea,” Nick said. “You and I both know there are a lot of weirdoes out there.”

  “You’ve got that right.

  “Will you tell me how to get to the police station?” Nick asked, and the officer complied. Once he had the directions, Nick added, “Thanks. We’ll be there soon.”

  He moved back to the gravestone, and Rebecca finally looked at the grave. Thinking of Mindy, she couldn’t stop herself from crying.

  Nick put his arm around her shoulders. “Be strong. It’s going to be all right.”

  “I know it will. It’s just so hard to accept.”

  “Do you want to go?”

  “Yes.”

  He guided her over to a huge old gnarled Magnolia tree.

  “If it wasn’t so sad, it would be peaceful here,” she said as she looked around.

  “Are you okay?” He eyed her.

  “I’ll be fine.” She smiled at him. “Would it offend you if I asked to be left alone for a little while?”

  “Of course not.” He stood. “I’ll scout around a little more. Take your time. I’ll be close by.”

  “Thank you.” She touched his face, then withdrew her hand quickly.

  Nick went back to the grave. He didn’t know what he was going to do next, but he had to give her some time to herself. A jogger paused to look at him. Knowing from the police report that a jogger had found Mindy’s body, Nick wondered if this was the man. He decided to ask.

  When the jogger nodded and said that yes, he was Ross Taylor, Nick was satisfied that his instincts had been right.

  Later, he was glad he’d talked with Taylor. Their conversation had netted him a piece of valuable information. He wasn’t sure how to pursue it, though, and as he mulled it over, Rebecca came toward him. He made up his mind. He’d act on the tip now.

  When they got back in the car, Nick said, “I have to run an errand. It shouldn’t take long.”

  “Will it help us?”

  “I hope so. I have to see a man named Henry Archer.”

  “Who is he?”

  “I ran into the man who found Mindy’s body, and he gave me Archer’s name. He may be able to tell us something. I’m not sure what, but I want to check it out.”

  Before long, they found Henry Archer’s house. Nick stopped the car in the driveway.

  “Rebecca, I want you to stay in the car.”

  “Why?”

  “Please. Will you do that for me?”

  “When you put it that way, I have no choice.”

  Nick reached to the back seat and picked up his sport coat. He opened the glove compartment and took out his gun.

  “Oh, Nick. Be careful.”

  “I will.”

  He tucked the gun into his belt, out of sight, and got out. He knocked on the door. Moments later, it opened and Nick went inside.

  After fifteen minutes, Nick reappeared with a package in his left hand. He shook hands with the man at the door and then winked at Rebecc
a as he passed her side of the car. He opened the trunk, put the package inside and then closed it. He got back into the car and pulled away.

  “What did he give you, Nick?”

  “He made some videos of the grave the day the body was found. I don’t think you’ll want to see them.”

  She shuddered. “You’re right about that.”

  “We’ll call on the police now,” he said as they headed toward the police station. “Are you up to it?”

  “Of course.”

  Detective Whittington seemed glad to meet them, but didn’t give them any information that wasn’t already public knowledge. They chatted for about thirty minutes, then headed back to Winston-Salem.

  Chapter 32

  “Willard, can you believe we were so involved with the figures at lunch that I forgot to ask if you ever got in touch with Millicent?” Vernon said into the receiver.

  “I thought I told you I did. She came by, and I told her I’d have everything ready for her to go over later. I called her early this morning and set up a meeting with her tomorrow. She didn’t suspect anything. I’m sure of that.” He cleared his throat. “How are the books coming?”

  “We’ll have them done by tomorrow even if I have to work all night. I want everything to look great to the old biddy, and I’m sure it will. Robyn is doing a good job.”

  “You’re lucky to have her, Vernon.”

  “I know I am.” He changed the subject. “I’ll get the books to you tomorrow. What time is Millicent coming to see you?”

  “I told her three o’clock. She’ll be early, though.”

  “We’ll have the books there by lunch.”

  “Sounds good.”

  Vernon hung up the phone. Seconds later, a knock rattled his office door.

  He frowned and called out, “Yes?”

  Diane, his receptionist, poked her head in. “I’m sorry to bother you, Mr. Armfield. It’s your maid. She says there’s been some kind of accident at your house.”

  “Is she still on the phone?”

  “Yes. On line three.”

  “Wilma,” he said into the phone. “What’s the matter?”

  “Oh, Mr. Armfield. It’s awful. Miss Davidson had a fall. I came in from the store and found her.”

  “Have you called the doctor?”

  “I called 911.”

  “How is she?”

  “Not good, sir. I think you should come home.”

  “Have they taken her to the hospital? Maybe I should go there.”

  “No, sir. Miss Davidson is dead.”

  “Oh, my word. I’ll be right there, Wilma.” He hung up the phone and hurried out. “Diane, I have to go home. There’s been an accident.”

  “Not Mrs. Armfield, Sir.”

  “No. It’s her aunt.” He put on his suit jacket. “I probably won’t be back today. Take messages. I’ll try to call you before you leave.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  Robyn came out of her office. “What’s going on?”

  “Walk to the car with me, and I’ll fill you in,” Vernon said.

  When they were outside, she asked, “What’s up?”

  “Millicent has had an accident.”

  “Damn. Is she hurt bad?”

  “Dead, I think.” He half-smiled. “Funny turn of events, wouldn’t you say? I still want you to finish our project. Someone else might want to go over the figures. I’ll be in touch with you.”

  “Do you still want to get them to Willard tomorrow?”

  “Absolutely. By lunch time.”

  “Will do, boss. Take care.”

  “Thanks, Robyn.”

  * * * *

  Nick turned off I-40 onto Hanes Mall Boulevard and headed toward the Silas Creek Parkway as the sun went down.

  “Nick, I’m so glad I went with you today.” Rebecca smiled at him. “Visiting the grave helped me come to terms with Mindy’s death. It still hurts, but I know now I’ll survive it.”

  “Of course you will.”

  “Do you think going to South Port helped your investigation?”

  “Yes, I do. Everything helps. The puzzle has a lot of pieces, but we’ll work it out. I’m sure of that.”

  “I feel renewed and ready to help you all I can. You’ve been a wonderful friend. That hour we spent at the park in South Port watching the boats go out to sea helped me put things in perspective.”

  “I’m glad.” He wanted to tell her how much her sitting with him on the swing and resting her head on his shoulder had meant to him. He’d let her cry, and then they’d talked about nothing in particular. Just about things they both liked. He didn’t tell her any of this because he was trying to keep in the forefront of his mind that she was a married woman. She might not have a good husband, but she was tied to him.

  “Dinner was delightful, too. I’d never eaten at Lone Star before.”

  “After a Bo ‘jangles’ lunch, I thought we could handle something different.”

  He paused and turned onto Country Club Road.

  “I forgot to ask,” she said. “Did you watch the DVD we found in Mindy’s safe?”

  He smiled. “I’d hoped you wouldn’t bring that up.”

  “Pretty bad, huh?”

  “Pretty bad.” He glanced at her. “It was a porno flick, Rebecca.”

  “Starring my sister, I presume?”

  “That’s right.”

  “So that’s what she was into.”

  “Looks that way.”

  “We were so different. She never seemed to want the normal things in life.” Rebecca laughed. “And that’s all I ever wanted.”

  “You chose the best road.”

  “For me, yes.”

  He didn’t say anything else. He was thankful she hadn’t asked who else was in the DVD. He made two more turns, and then approached her driveway.

  Four police cars sat in front of her door.

  She looked startled. “Oh, my Lord, what could have happened now?”

  Nick pulled in behind them. “We’ll soon find out.”

  Chapter 33

  Erica closed the car door and before starting the engine, looked over at her companion. “Are you all right?’

  “You’re the only person on earth I can say this to, Erica, but, no. I’m not all right. Twice, in less than two weeks, I’ve come to this funeral home to pick out a coffin and make plans to bury a loved one. How could I be all right?”

  “I’m sorry. It was a dumb question.”

  “No, it wasn’t dumb. I know you feel you have to keep a check on me, but I’m not going to lose it this time. I’m going to get through this, just like I did Mindy’s funeral. But I need your help to do it, my friend.”

  “I’ll be here. You know that.” Erica pulled out of the parking lot.

  “I know you will.” Rebecca sat back. “Justine Crouse called this morning. It seems that not only did my sister have her draft a new will, but Aunt Millicent did as well. My aunt even appointed her executrix.”

  “This sounds like family business. Why are you telling me?”

  “Because Justine is coming over this afternoon. I want you there with me.”

  “Won’t Vernon be there?”

  “No. I didn’t tell him. Besides, he said he has some business to take care of.”

  “But don’t you need him with you?”

  “No. He and Aunt Millicent hated each other. Though he pretends to be upset, I think he’s glad she’s dead.”

  “That’s an awful thing to say.”

  “I know, but this month’s events have taught me to say what I think. Maybe if I’d paid more attention to Aunt Millicent, she wouldn’t be dead. Maybe some of what she said was true.”

  “That’s nonsense. How could you know a thief was going to burglarize your house?”

  “Nick doesn’t think a thief killed her.”

  “What?” Erica was visibly startled.

  “The police are putting it down as a possible burglary, but Nick thinks the same person who murd
ered Mindy pushed Aunt Millicent down the stairs.”

  “Did he tell you this?”

  “No.”

  “Then how do you know what he thinks?”

  “I’ve been around him enough to listen to the way he asks questions. He thinks like a detective, not like the average person, and he often sees things we miss.”

  “What have you heard him asking about her death?”

  “Things like, if a burglar wanted to get in and out quickly, why didn’t he take one of the valuable paintings from the first floor? They are all worth more that the missing jewelry. Why did he come upstairs and search my room and take only a handful of jewelry? And if jewelry was what he was after, why didn’t he take the diamond rings in plain sight on the dresser? Why didn’t he just take the good stuff and leave the costume jewelry instead of mixing it up? Or if he didn’t know what was good, why didn’t he pick up the entire jewelry box? It’s not that heavy.”

  “Well, what he’s asking does make sense.”

  “See, I told you. He doesn’t think it was just a robbery. He thinks someone planned it.”

  “Who would want to hurt Aunt Millicent?”

  “That’s the kicker. Nick thinks they may have been after me.”

  “He told you that?”

  “No. Vernon did. I guess Nick told Vernon.”

  They pulled into Rebecca’s driveway. “I was going to protest coming in to meet your lawyer, but I’ve changed my mind. I’m coming in with you to make sure nobody’s here except Wilma—and if I have to meet a lawyer, too, so be it,” Erica said.

  “Thanks.”

  “Well, I have to admit that another reason I’m coming is because I want to hear more about this detective. I intended to get out my old high school annual and look him up earlier, but I didn’t get around to it. Is he married or seeing anyone?”

  “No.” Rebecca smiled. “He’s not married. He has been, though. His first marriage ended in divorce. He lost his second wife and daughter in an automobile accident eight years ago.”

  “That’s terrible. I don’t think I could stand losing one of my boys.”

  “I know.”

  “I’m sorry, Rebecca. I know you suffered the loss of a child, too.”

  “To answer your second question,” she said, ignoring Erica’s statement. “I don’t know if Nick is seeing anyone right now or not. He hasn’t said.”