“I don’t mind,” Darcy said. “I’d like to be there.”
Good. Breaking and entering is always better with company. We arranged to meet in front of Dix’s house at eight—since Darcy knew where it was—and then we’d move on from there. And after that, I took her home and dropped her off so I could deal with a couple of other things.
One of them was Aunt Regina. But on my way over to my aunt’s house, I gave some thought to what Rafe had told me earlier.
The dead body in the duplex wasn’t Jamal. That was good news.
The fact that Jamal was still missing was the bad news.
And I wasn’t sure whether it was my imagination or something else, but Rafe had seemed worried. And not just about Jamal being missing—although that was worrisome enough. But I’d gotten the distinct vibe that he was worried about something else. Like, about Jamal having killed the gang banger in the duplex, and Jamal having lobbed the firebomb through the window to hide the evidence.
The gang banger hadn’t done it, after all. So someone else must have.
Or there was a mastermind behind the whole thing, and that mastermind had instructed the now-dead gang banger to eliminate his comrades. Now-dead gang banger had complied, and had reported to the mastermind that the job was done. And the mastermind had gone to the duplex and eliminated the last of the gang bangers.
I liked that idea better. All Rafe had to do was figure out who the mastermind was, and make sure he didn’t kill Jamal, and all was well.
And in the meantime, I had my aunt to talk to.
Aunt Regina and Uncle Sid married later in life. They never had children; I don’t know whether that was by choice or by nature. It had never occurred to me to ask, to be honest. Could be that they were too old when they got married—or thought they were. Could be that Aunt Regina shared my problems, and after a few miscarriages they gave up. Or they could just have decided they preferred to focus on one another.
Dad inherited the Martin Mansion from his father. Aunt Regina, meanwhile, moved into the small but choice Victorian cottage Uncle Sid took over from his parents. They retired to Arizona at some point, to get away from the humidity, and Aunt Regina and Uncle Sid moved in.
I parked outside the white picket fence—shades of Tom Sawyer—and just sat there and watched the house for a moment.
It’s a Folk Victorian cottage with just two bedrooms; one for the master and mistress of the house and the other for Aunt Regina’s office. Uncle Sid spends most of his time on the golf course now that he’s retired.
The house is pale pink with white trim, and looks like a frosted cupcake. The yard behind the pickets burgeons with flowers, since Aunt Regina enjoys gardening when the weather isn’t too hot.
It was much too hot now, but on a steamy Sunday afternoon, she was sitting on the porch sipping lemonade and fanning herself. After a few seconds, when I didn’t get out of the car, she got to her feet and waved.
I waved back—not sure she could see me through the window—and opened the door. The heat hit me like a wall, and the walk to the porch was like wading through molasses, the air so thick it took effort to move through it.
I collapsed into one of the wicker chairs. “Hi.”
“Savannah.” Aunt Regina smiled and handed me a glass of lemonade, so cold the condensation burned my fingers. “You look like you could use this.”
“It’s hot. And the baby makes it feel worse.” I stretched my legs out and looked at them. “I have swollen ankles.”
“So do I,” my aunt said comfortably and settled back again with her own glass.
We sat in silence a minute and just enjoyed the cool liquid. It had thin slices of lemons floating in it.
“Is Uncle Sid golfing?” I asked eventually.
Aunt Regina nodded. “Can’t imagine why he’d want to, in this heat, but it’s an obsession with him. Don’t know what he’ll do while we’re on the cruise.”
“I think they have driving ranges on cruise ships,” I said, although I had no idea, really. “I’m surprised he didn’t offer to take you somewhere with a lot of golf courses instead.”
“He wanted to go to Scotland,” Aunt Regina said, with a grimace. “Cold and damp.”
But with a lot of golf courses. And interesting architecture, fascinating history, and men in kilts. I would have done that before I went on a cruise.
Not that Rafe is particularly interested in golf. Or cruises. Or for that matter, men in kilts. He’d happily go back to the beach, though. But he likes getting in the water, not just being on top of it.
“Everything all right with you and your young man?” Aunt Regina asked.
“Fine, thank you. He’s working a lot.”
“Undercover,” Aunt Regina nodded. “I heard.”
“I spoke to him about an hour ago. He’s fine.” Apart from being worried about Jamal, and what Jamal might have done.
“I’m glad you were able to work things out.” She leaned forward and put her glass on the table. “So to what do I owe the honor?”
I must have looked confused, because she added, gently, “You don’t usually stop by out of the blue on a Sunday afternoon, Savannah. What do you want to talk about?”
Well, that was getting straight to the point, anyway. So I might as well do the same, and not beat around the bush.
“I’ve been helping Darcy look for her biological mother,” I said. And kept a close eye on my aunt as I said it, in case her expression gave something away.
It didn’t. “Your brother’s receptionist?”
“She was adopted. Her parents are dead. She wants to know whether her biological mother is still alive.”
“Here?”
“We’re thinking she might be here,” I said, and explained about the newspaper clipping and the Sweetwater postmark, as well as Ora Sweet and how she’d been Denise Seaver’s patient. “She would have been around your age, I guess. Maybe a little younger.”
“Definitely a little younger,” Aunt Regina said. “Unless she lied about her age.”
“Denise Seaver said Ora was a year ahead of her in school. I assume high school and not medical school.”
“I think you can safely assume that,” my aunt said. “I was a couple of years ahead of Denise. Robert was a year ahead, I think.”
Robert being my late father and Aunt Regina’s brother. He passed away a few years ago, so it wasn’t like I could ask him.
“Did you know anyone named Ora?”
“No one that comes to mind,” Aunt Regina said. And if she was trying to hide that she was Ora and had had a baby out of wedlock in her twenties, she was doing a masterful job of it. I didn’t get any indication that she was involved in any way. No sense of guilt, or worry, or even surprise.
But I could still pick her brain.
“What about someone who was pregnant? This would have been before you married Uncle Sid.”
“A few years,” Aunt Regina nodded. “Some people find their soul mates early in life, and some people take a little longer.”
Nothing wrong with that. I’d found mine, but I hadn’t been particularly quick about it. It had taken me a fair amount of time to accept the truth, I guess.
That’s if you believe in such things as soul mates, of course. But Aunt Regina and Uncle Sid had been married for thirty years, so whether they were soul mates or not, they’d obviously found something that had lasted.
“And I don’t remember anyone who was pregnant out of wedlock,” Aunt Regina added. “Except for LaDonna Collier, of course. Bless her heart.”
Of course. “This would have been before LaDonna. About three years before. Darcy’s thirty-four.” And LaDonna had been eleven when Darcy was born, so there was no chance she could have been Darcy’s mother. Bad enough she’d become pregnant with Rafe at fourteen. “And Darcy’s mother would have been at least ten years older than LaDonna.”
Aunt Regina shook her head. “No one comes to mind. Lots of women were pregnant, of course, and had babies,
but I can’t recall anyone being pregnant and then not showing up with one.”
“Some people are able to hide that they’re pregnant,” I said. “I guess if they’re tall. Or big already. And the babies are small...”
Aunt Regina shrugged. “If she didn’t look pregnant, I wouldn’t have known.”
“Not unless she told you.”
“I’m certain no one told me,” Aunt Regina said firmly. “I would remember that.”
OK, then. “We went to Tennessee Women’s Prison this morning and talked to Doctor Seaver.”
“Oh, dear,” Aunt Regina sighed.
“It was OK. A little strange, but not too unpleasant. The worst thing—” Other than the pregnant Carmen, and she wasn’t something I wanted to share with my aunt, “was the smell from the city dump across the highway. I’m glad I don’t live out there.”
Aunt Regina wrinkled her nose in sympathy, and for a moment we both sat in silence and enjoyed the smell of the flowers and the buzzing of the bees.
“Anyway,” I said, “she wouldn’t tell us anything. Although she did confirm that Ora was Darcy’s mother and that she was from this area. But on our way home, we stopped at St. Jerome’s Hospital—where Darcy was born—and talked to a nurse who had worked there back then. She remembered Ora and the baby. And she said that Darcy looks like her mother.”
Aunt Regina tilted her head sideways, like a plump bird. Those twelve pounds Mother had mentioned, hadn’t made much of a difference as far as I could tell. “I’ve seen Darcy.”
I nodded.
“I can’t think of anyone she particularly resembles.”
I couldn’t, either. Although there had been times when I’d looked at her and caught a glimpse of something familiar. Not familiar enough to pin down, unfortunately. But it was enough to make me think that Ora was someone I knew. Or maybe not knew personally, but someone I saw around town on a regular basis. The waitress at the Café on the Square, the check-out clerk at the drugstore or library, Beulah Odom.
Although most of the waitresses at the Café on the Square were younger than Darcy and the check-out clerk at the drugstore was Yvonne McCoy, who was my brother’s age.
“Did you know Beulah Odom?” I asked my aunt.
She nodded. “Of course. Beulah’s Meat’n Three has been a fixture around here since I was a girl. We ran her obituary in the Reporter a week ago.”
And then she shook her head. “She’s too old, Savannah. She would have been closer to forty thirty-four years ago.”
“I know. This is about something else.”
“What’s that?” Aunt Regina asked, and settled in to listen to gossip.
“Well, before she died, Beulah wrote a will in favor of Yvonne McCoy, one of the waitresses at the meat’n three. Do you know Yvonne?”
“Big-chested redhead,” my aunt said. “She went to school with your brother.”
“That’s her. Beulah wanted Yvonne to take over the restaurant after she was gone. She was teaching her how to run it. But Beulah’s sister-in-law and niece are contesting the will. I told Yvonne she should hire Catherine to represent her.”
Aunt Regina nodded approval. “Your brother is too much of a gentleman to go after a couple of women. Catherine won’t let that stop her.”
No, she wouldn’t. While my sister had received the same upbringing I had, she’d turned out a lot tougher. At least in a courtroom.
“Do you know them? The sister-in-law and niece?” If anyone would, it was my aunt. The society reporter.
Aunt Regina shook her head. “I’m afraid not. They’re from Franklin, I think. Or Leiper’s Fork. Somewhere in Williamson County. Beulah’s brother settled up there. And rarely came back down this way. They’re too good for us simple folk, I guess. Or think they are.”
In that case, it was even harder to imagine why they’d want Beulah’s Meat’n Three.
“I don’t suppose you’ve heard any rumors about Beulah’s death?”
“No,” Aunt Regina said, perking up. “Are there rumors?”
“If you haven’t heard any, probably not. Sheriff Satterfield and Officer Vasquez with the Columbia PD both said it looked like a heart attack. And the M.E. ruled natural causes.”
“Then I’m sure that’s all it is,” my aunt said, looking disappointed.
I pushed to my feet. “I should go home and lie down for a bit. See if I can get my ankles back to normal before tonight.”
“What’s happening tonight?” my aunt wanted to know.
I hesitated, and then decided I might as well tell her. If something went wrong, at least someone would know where we’d gone. “Darcy and I are going over to Denise Seaver’s house to see if we can find any records she may have kept from thirty-four years ago.”
My aunt’s eyebrows arched. “Do you have a key?”
I shook my head.
“You’re breaking in?”
“I’m hoping we’ll find a hide-a-key or something, so we don’t actually have to break anything. But yes. I guess we are.”
“Be careful,” Aunt Regina said.
It was my turn to arch my brows. “You aren’t going to tell me not to do it?”
She stretched her legs out. “I’m a reporter, Savannah. You think I haven’t been in that position before? You go where the story takes you.”
I hadn’t realized that being the society reporter for a local newspaper in a small town in Middle Tennessee involved quite so much excitement, but as long as she didn’t threaten to rat me out to Mother or Bob Satterfield, I was good with playing along. “That’s what I thought.”
“Make sure you bring a flashlight and wear dark clothes.”
I said I would. “I should probably call and tell Darcy that, too.”
“That would probably be a good idea,” Aunt Regina nodded. “Have a good time.”
I assured her we would, and took myself off in the car, while I wondered at this side of my aunt I’d never seen before.
It was good advice, however, so I did slip into a pair of black yoga pants and a dark T-shirt before heading out that night. No sense in tempting fate by stepping out in high heels and a sundress. We’d be pushing our way through the woods behind Marley Cartwright’s house to get to Denise Seaver’s place, so good footwear would be helpful, and besides, I didn’t want my favorite maternity dress snagged on a tree branch. And if something went wrong and we were arrested, the yoga pants and T-shirt would be a lot more comfortable for a night in jail than my usual attire.
Darcy was already there when I pulled up in front of Dix’s house in Copper Creek. Unfortunately, so was Dix. Out in the street outside the house, leaning on Darcy’s window.
She looked very uncomfortable.
“What are you doing?” I asked my brother after turning off the Volvo and getting out.
“Talking to my receptionist. What are you doing?”
I had to think fast. “We’re going to exercise. By walking around your subdivision. It’s safer to walk here than on the other roads.”
Dix looked skeptical. “Now?”
“It’s less hot after the sun goes down.”
He couldn’t very well argue with that.
“We thought we’d park our cars here at your house,” I said, “since Darcy knew where it was, and then we’d exercise for thirty minutes or an hour.”
“Is exercising for an hour in this heat good for you?”
“We won’t walk fast,” I said, and glanced at Darcy. “We should probably get going before it gets any later. Ready?”
She nodded, and opened her door. Dix moved out of the way, obligingly. “What’s that for?” He nodded to the flashlight in my hand.
“In case the street lights go out,” I said. “And in case we get attacked by a rabid dog and I have to hit it with something. This will be easier than looking around for a handy tree branch.”
And anyway, in the unlikely event that that happened, blinding it with the light might give us enough time to get away. Behind a handy fen
ce, or something.
Dix looked doubtful, although I don’t know why. It was a reasonable explanation.
“We’ll be back for our cars by nine at the latest,” I told him. Darcy had also changed into comfortable shoes and what could pass for exercise clothes. And they were dark. Good. “Make sure no one takes them.”
“We don’t have a big problem with grand theft auto around here,” Dix said. “At least not since Collier left town.” He turned toward his house. “Walk carefully. Stop by to let me know you got back here safely.”
I told him we would, and then we set off down the street, with me swinging the flashlight in athletic fashion. When we reached the corner and I glanced over my shoulder, Dix was no longer anywhere to be seen. Gone inside to watch Disney Princess movies with his girls, no doubt.
Darcy and I continued walking, just as if we were exercising. In fact, I guess we were exercising, and not just looking like it.
“There’s Marley’s house,” I told Darcy after a couple of minutes. “The one with the... hmm.”
She looked at me. “The one with the what?”
“The SUV in the driveway.” An SUV that wasn’t Marley’s. I didn’t know what she was driving these days, but it wasn’t this SUV. I’d seen it before and knew who it belonged to. “That’s Todd’s car.”
“ADA Satterfield?”
I nodded.
“Didn’t he put her on trial for murder last year?”
He had. And had been all set to slam the cell door behind her, until it was discovered that Denise Seaver had stolen little Oliver, and Marley hadn’t killed the baby and hidden the remains. Once that came out, Todd had had to drop the charges and grovel.
He must have groveled very nicely to find himself here now. I’m not sure I could have been as forgiving.
“I hope they aren’t sitting on the deck,” I mumbled. It would make it tough to sneak through the yard without being seen.
“Surely not,” Darcy said. “The mosquitoes.”
They were out in full force. I’d be covered with red bumps tomorrow. And the longer we stood here, the worse it would be.
“C’mon.” I set off up the driveway to the gate.
Uncertain Terms (Savannah Martin Mysteries Book 12) Page 19
