“Are you comfortable?” Starnes said when she looked up from her bureaucratic paperwork.
“Some.”
“Do you have to put your feet on my desk?”
“Seemed like the best way to relax.”
“What if someone came into my office on official business?”
“There’s enough room on the other end for them to put their feet up,” I said.
“Not my point.”
“You want my feet elsewhere?”
“Would you?” she said.
I took my feet down and stood. I finished my coffee and looked around the room. The coffee maker sitting on the small table behind her desk contained an empty coffee pot. The red light on the machine indicated that it was still on.
“You’re burning up your pot,” I said.
“What?” she looked up from her form.
“The coffee pot,” I said and pointed to it, “behind you there. It’s empty. You’re scorching the glass pot.”
She turned the coffee maker off then returned to her forms-filling work.
“I’m going to walk down the street to get another cup of coffee,” I said.
“In the cold?”
“Don’t have a choice.”
“Wait up. I’ll go with you.”
The coffee from the grill tasted better than the stuff I had been drinking from Starnes’ office pot. We were sitting on stools at the counter. It was late afternoon.
“You doin’ anything this evening?” Starnes asked.
“Yeah, I have a date. We’re going dancing, then maybe a movie.”
“I ask a simple question and I get sarcasm.”
“What do you think I am doing this evening? I’ll likely as not be with you and Sam, my constant companions. What did you have in mind?”
“Another visit with Aunt Jo,” she said.
“What’s the purpose?”
“To see if she has any additional knowledge since we found the gun.”
“This is scary, you know.”
“Visiting Aunt Jo?”
“No. Your reliance upon someone whose source is an ancient mountain myth.”
“So you say.”
“So I say. But we’re going anyway, no matter what I think.”
“No matter what you think.”
Chapter Thirty-Eight
The last time we entered the blackness of Ivy Gap it was cool. This time it was more so. The expression that crossed my mind was that arcane one about being as cold as a witch’s tit. I never really understood the significance of that expression, nor why a witch would be involved. Or even why one part of her anatomy would be colder than any other part. Or why a witch would be colder than, say, my anatomy. I need to ask Rogers to search that one. Maybe.
It was cold. I was wearing underwear, shirt, sweater and two coats. I had consumed enough coffee to float a fleet of battleships. It seemed even colder to me as we plodded up the trail from where we had parked our vehicle. Nothing like an evening stroll in a dark valley with the temperatures falling as the seconds ticked along. Sam was moving ahead of us as if he knew exactly where we were headed.
Very cold and very dark. I cannot emphasize those two facts strongly enough. Late March and it felt like January. The sky was clear and the stars were abundant. I counted four billion, give or take. There was a slight wind blowing down from the top of the peak in front of us. My two coats were insufficient. My gloves felt like those sanitized plastic wrappings used in sandwich shops to protect the customers from the germs of the servers. I put my hands inside my coat pockets. Gloves and hands inside my coat pockets, and I was still freezing.
“Are you not cold?” I said to Starnes.
“A little. You learn to accept it. Live with it. Be one with it.”
“Be one with?” I questioned her sanity.
“Yeah, like you and the cold merge in some fashion.”
“That’s not going to happen.”
“Then you will continue to be cold.”
“I think I would continue to be cold even if the weather and I married and shared hours of intimacy together.”
“Perhaps.”
We arrived at the hovel of a house that Josephine Starling called home. The only times I had visited her place was when it was pitch black. I wondered if it would be dark if we came during the daylight hours. It was a passing thought.
The candle light was beaming from her living room window. We followed its shadowy path to the door and knocked. For some reason, the light from the candle had diminished by the time we had approached the front door. I could hear Sam whining softly, but I couldn’t see him. I could barely make out Starnes who was standing next to me. She knocked again.
I looked around halfway expecting Aunt Jo to appear suddenly as she did the first time we had visited. She could have been standing there for all I knew. It was black on both sides of me and barely enough light behind me to see shadows. The candle light was not effective this evening. I could, however, make out the little gate we had passed through to her front door. The gate was vibrating enough to make a soft squeaking sound due to the wind blowing harshly against it.
The wind was blowing harshly against us as well. Off in the distance something howled.
Finally, the door opened and Aunt Jo invited us inside.
“Sorry it took me so long. I was in the back doin’ some chores,” she said. “Make yourselves at home. I’ll get the tea and be back shortly.”
I decided to position myself differently on this visit. I chose the green cushioned chair. Starnes sat in the red one. That only left Aunt Jo two options – she could sit on the couch or stand.
“It’s warm in here,” Starnes said.
I was satisfied that the warmth was for my benefit since Aunt Jo likely as not knew that I had not yet accustomed myself to the March mountain cold.
“It feels good to me. If she had a fire going, I would sit in it.”
“You can take off one of your coats now,” she added.
“Leave me alone. My blood is just south of freezing.”
Sam was sitting on the oval throw rug in front of the small table which was in front of the couch. After a few more minutes passed, Sam lay down completely and went to sleep. Aunt Jo arrived with the tea and placed the tray on the table in front of the couch.
“Some more delicious root tea?” I said.
“No, this is one of my special herbal teas. See if you can guess what it is,” she said as she handed each of us a cup.
I sipped mine gently not wanting to burn my frozen lips. After two or three tiny sips, I couldn’t identify the herb she had used for the tea, but I could feel my lips attached to my face for the first time since we had left the Jeep. I looked at Starnes, raised my eyebrows, pointed to the cup and she shrugged which indicated she had no idea what it was either.
“Now, how may I help you two girls?”
“We found the gun, had it tested, and it proved to be the murder weapon. Thank you for your information,” Starnes said.
“You mean Sam found the gun, don’t you?”
“How did you know that?” Starnes said before she thought. “Never mind. Forget I asked that.”
Aunt Jo smiled. “It’s a natural question. Don’t worry about that. I get that a lot.”
“I’ll bet you do. Tell me, Aunt Jo,” I said, “how do you see the things you see?”
“What do you mean?”
“Do they come as some type of vision or is it a dream or do you just imagine something?”
“Yes,” she said. “And more.”
“Okay, then how did you see Sam finding the gun in the water?”
“I don’t rightly know how to tell you that,” she began. “I felt Sam’s presence as if his coat was brushing up against me, and it was wet. Then I looked into his mind and could see through his eyes, you know, what he saw. He was looking at the gun in the water.”
Both Starnes and I were quiet as she related this strange experience. It was beyond my compr
ehension. I figured she had visions or dreams as such. Maybe she did now and then.
“Have you had experiences like that with other animals?”
“No, I haven’t. A bit unusual, even by my standards,” she smiled and sipped her tea.
“But,” she continued, “the moment I met Sam when you first came, I knew that he was special. Most dogs do not have his keen sense of awareness, his presence, as well as his knowledge of what is going on in a given situation. Sam is intuitive. But you know that, of course.”
“Yes, ma’am. I picked that up almost from the time he showed up in my life, or at least by the time I had lived with him a few days. I knew he was aware of things without being told. He also listens well.”
“Sam is such a strong and fearless creature, and has the heart of a lioness who is protecting her cub. And he remembers what he hears.”
“And I would be the cub?”
“Yes, indeed,” Jo said. “He loves you more than you could imagine. He would die for you. But you already know that.”
“I do.”
“So, you came here to ask me how I knew where the gun was or who really found it, or did you come with another question for me?”
I decided that she already knew the answer to that question. I wondered why she even asked it.
“Actually we came with another question,” Starnes said.
“Ask.”
“Can you give us any further clue as to either who owns the gun or who used it to kill the two people?”
“I could, but that’s not really my purpose here.”
“So what is your purpose?” I asked.
“To listen, to pay attention, to see, to experience, to help, to explain, to enlighten, and to pass along some love.”
“Sounds rather noble,” I said.
“Don’t know about that, but I try to learn as I go and be a source for good.”
“So why can you not offer us a clue as to the person involved in these deaths? Seems to me that such a clue would go to the helping side of your purpose,” I said.
“You already know.”
“Know what?” I said.
“It would be redundant for me to tell you since you already know.”
“We know who owns the gun and who killed the two victims?” Starnes said.
“Clancy knows,” Aunt Jo said.
“I can leave and you can tell Starnes,” I said.
“That’s funny, Clancy. I adore your quick wit. You have what we old folks call gumption. You have it in spades, my dear.”
“What I have here is a problem with your answer.”
“Tell me your problem.”
“You say I know who killed those two people. But I can honestly tell you that I do not know. As you say, I know what I know. What you say and what I know seems to be a paradox.”
“But for the moment. You know because you have resources beyond what most people have. That does not mean you have relied upon or asked your resources. But, you do know and since your resources are very much a part of you, I won’t tell you. Trust your sources.”
“Cryptic,” I said.
“Ditto here,” Starnes said. “In fact, so cryptic, I have no earthly idea what you two are talking about.”
“It will all become clear soon enough. You are very close to the end. Relax. The person you seek is not far away and will not disappear unless you tarry too long on this. You will find the answers and you will be praised. In fact, Starnes Carver, I can tell you a little of your future. Would you like to know?”
“No,” she said. “I’d just as soon live it and experience it the first time around and leave it at that.”
“Good answer, child. Wise. Do you like the tea?”
We both were a little dazed at Aunt Jo’s ability to control the entire situation. My response seemed to be more of a reflex than hearty agreement. I couldn’t say what Starnes’ response was like. I simply looked in Starnes direction when I nodded and saw her nod as well. I can say that the tea was quite delicious.
“So who can tell me what herb I used in making it?”
“I’d say you used more than one,” I ventured a guess since I could not detect merely one flavor in the tea.
“Very good, child. That was really a safe answer, though, wasn’t it?”
“Safe as could be.”
“Starnes Carver, do you not recognize at least one herb in the tea?” Aunt Jo said.
“Well, it does remind me of that mulberry, hibiscus, and something else you concocted back when I was a little girl coming here.”
“Good memory, my dear. It is in fact that concoction, as you refer to it, plus I have added some other ingredients that I learned were good to the taste and good for the body since you were a little girl. I keep learning and trying to improve upon things. It has some Ginseng in it as well.”
“Is it supposed to be good for something in particular besides tasting good?” I said.
“Well, since you asked, this particular blend of herbs and tonics is said to improve the eyes, one’s true vision, and promotes abundant energy. I gave it to you both this night to help with your vision. I sense that it is your vision that is lacking. You will thank me later.”
“I’ll thank you now, in case later never comes for me,” I said.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
The entire trip back to Starnes’ place from Josephine Starling’s was spent trying to unravel her cryptic words about me knowing who had committed the two murders we had been investigating for weeks. And my resources for such knowledge, as she so succinctly and so obliquely stated.
Starnes pulled her truck into the drive and my cell rang. It was Rogers.
The light bulb came on and I felt stupid. Really, really stupid. More than I usually feel when I am floundering about with an unsolved case and dead-end leads. Starnes walked into the house; Sam stayed with me inside the truck while I spoke with Rogers.
“You have answers, right?”
“I have some information that I hope will help,” Rogers said.
“You probably have more than you realize, or you would have called me sooner.”
“I tried calling you earlier this evening, but your phone service said you were out of range or not taking calls, or some such babble as that. So, I kept trying off and on for a little while, and then I just waited. I figured you would come out of the woods sooner or later.”
“Well put. Think edge of the world and yet still in the woods. Tell me what you have.”
“Here is the long version – seven years ago there was a gun show in Asheville. A gun dealer by the name of Artemis Wilhelm Schnauer from, of all places, Bennettsville, South Carolina, was selling German Lugers. Artemis had a set of five 9mm Lugers that had the unique selling point of claiming consecutive serial numbers. How Artemis came to have such a set of guns was and is unknown to me or any source I could check. I chose not to pursue that without some authorization from you since I believed it to be a dead-end. What I did discover was that one Abelard Justin Gosnell bought the set of German Lugers, all manufactured in 1908 for a mere $6,000. At the time, it was a steal. If guns continue to increase in value as they age, then it remains a steal to this very day. Imagine that. Anyhow, the guns which you have been investigating are all common to that original set. Just how the people involved came to own or possess those guns is unknown to me because it is not contained in anyone’s databank. At least not that I could find. Well, some of it is now in mine, of course. And now you know it. Word seems to be getting around.”
“You obviously did some snooping around in some secure sites in order to obtain those serial numbers,” I said.
“I confess nothing. You ask for information and I deliver. Let’s just say, shall we, that my sources for this data need to do a better job of securing their information if they desire it to be kept secret. I am a master of stealth when I go slithering about hither and yon. You can trust me.”
“Oh, I do trust you, O master of sleuth who slithers. But one of these
days you are going to get caught with your hand in the proverbial cookie jar.”
“Your metaphor notwithstanding, I doubt that very seriously. You do not yet quite understand my capabilities, nor my frequent upgrades.”
“What frequent upgrades?” I said. Some days there are too many surprises.
“Oops, I think I have misspoken. Did I say upgrades? I meant those cleaning and clearing sessions which run periodically, self-inflicted, you know, on my files. That’s what I meant to say,” Rogers was clarifying rather clumsily.
“That’s not what you meant to say at all. Of all the things I do know about you, of one I am most certain, Miss Sleuthy. You do not misspeak. You said what you intend to say. We’ll talk about this later. In the meantime, thanks for the data on the guns.”
I left Sam in the cold when I entered the warmth of the cozy little house. His interest was elsewhere for the moment.
“You will not believe what I have discovered,” I said.
I told Starnes all that Rogers had reported; however, I gave myself credit for running some fictitious computer program on German Lugers.
“That means that Lucinda’s gun, Cain’s gun, and the murder weapon are part of that set,” Starnes said.
“It also means that Cain lied to me about where he got the gun. He told me his great-grandfather gave it to him. Wonder why he lied about that?”
“People lie,” Starnes said.
“Yeah, they do. Begs the question, though, right? Why would he?”
“You think that’s important?”
“With our propensity of running into brick walls, everything is important. But since his gun was not the murder weapon and he is presently on death row in Central Prison in Wake County, I really don’t see how vital it could be. Still, he lied to us.”
“Abel buys the set of five Lugers and gives one to Lucinda. Question is how did Cain get one of the guns?” Starnes said.
“Good question.”
“That leaves two missing guns in the set and the natural question of who are the owners of those two guns,” Starnes said.
“It also leaves us the question of who had possession of the murder weapon.”
When Blood Cries Page 20
