One Foot in the Grave

by Denise Grover Swank

  “Maybe so, but will you tell me anyway?” When she didn’t answer, I said, “I’ll tell you about one instance I know about and then leave it to you to decide, okay?”

  She gave me a nod.

  Reaching into my purse, I pulled out my notebook and flipped through the pages. “I’ve been doing some research in the Ewing Chronicle, looking for strange incidents.”

  “And what would you label strange incidents?” she asked, undeniable interest in her voice.

  “People getting arrested for doing inexplicable things. Such as Roger Pierce.”

  Her eyes widened at the mention of his name. “What about him?”

  “He killed a postal worker in a murder-suicide about twenty years ago.”

  Her mouth pinched. “Unfortunate business.”

  “Especially since the articles said the police couldn’t find a motive. As far as everyone knew, Roger Pierce had never met Dudley Franken. He wasn’t even Roger’s mail carrier. It was a totally random act.”

  “And you don’t think it was?” she asked.

  “You tell me,” I said. “Was it?”

  She was silent for several long seconds, and I was sure she was going to blow me off, but then she surprised me. “Roger had a gambling problem. He made good money workin’ as a foreman at the lumber yard.”

  “Drummond Lumber? That wasn’t in the news articles.”

  “Well, he didn’t work there anymore at the time of the murder. His last job was at the convenience store at the corner of Walnut and Rally in Ewing. Back when he worked at the lumberyard, he was deep in debt and on the verge of losin’ his house. Then suddenly he came into a windfall, or at least enough money to catch up on his mortgage payments. There were a lot of rumors goin’ around about where he got the money, but his wife said a guardian angel had given it to them. Of course, Roger didn’t learn his lesson, as is often the way with addicts, and soon he was in debt again.”

  I considered telling her that addiction was a disease but decided not to stop her.

  “This time his wife left with their kids and moved to Nashville, and he lost his job. No one was surprised he killed himself. He was a bitterly unhappy man who refused to accept responsibility for his actions. It was the fact that he killed Dudley first that caught everyone by surprise. As far as anyone knows, Dudley never even went into the convenience store where Roger worked.”

  “Why do you think Roger killed him?” I asked.

  She gave me a pointed stare. “You’re wantin’ me to say that Bart Drummond called in a favor. I can’t tell you that, but it’s mighty suspicious. The sheriff never came up with an answer, although to be honest, I’m not sure how much they tried.”

  Once again, nothing solid to link the crime back to Bart.

  “Can you tell me about any others?” I asked. “I know you don’t like gossiping about things that can’t be proven, but I’m tryin’ to find people who might have been Bart’s victims. I need to figure out a way to stop him.”

  “Stopping Bart Drummond is like tryin’ to stop lava flow from a volcano. It will only get you burnt to a crisp.”

  “Then I’ll wear a protective suit,” I said. “Please, Miss Thelma.”

  She sighed, looking none too pleased. “This one’s more personal.” She cleared her throat. “One of my husband’s second cousins got into trouble with the law for a DUI, and he couldn’t afford an attorney. So he went to Bart.”

  “What did Bart give him?”

  “He got the charges dropped.”

  “And how did he repay Bart?”

  She made a face. “Well, that part’s a little fuzzy. Bart would never want his favors broadcast, but it’s easy enough to guess based on what happened. Oscar got arrested for burning down a house.”

  “What? Why?”

  She shook her head. “Rumor had it that the woman didn’t follow through on her end of a bargain with Bart.”

  “So he had Oscar burn her house down?”

  “I can’t think of any other earthly reason why he’d do it. He didn’t even know the woman. He must’ve been worried about what Bart would do to him if he didn’t follow through, but he got caught.” She held my gaze. “Her two kids were inside.”

  “Oh, my God! Did they get out?”

  She shook her head. “No, and Oscar couldn’t live with it. He took his own life as soon as he got out on bail.”

  Or Bart called in another favor and had made it look like suicide before Oscar could tell his side of the story. “And the woman?”

  “She became a drunk and died a few years later when she ran her car into a tree.”

  I felt sick to my stomach.

  Her hands twisted in her lap, as though she was wrestling some inner emotion, and then she stopped. “I hesitate to say more, but not all of his favors are so ghastly. I heard of a man in Ewing who needed a loan to open a restaurant, and it thrived. Bart always has a table if he wants one.”

  Wow. His choice of table in a restaurant in Ewing. My father would laugh his ass off at that.

  “Will you tell me about more specific cases?” I asked as I flipped to a new page. “What about Betty Villanova? She was arrested for breaking into a pawn shop in Ewing about five years ago. The newspaper said the sheriff couldn’t figure out what she was there to steal, and she never told. She’s currently in prison after pleading guilty.”

  “I don’t know anything about that,” she said, shaking her head.

  “Does it sound like something Bart would have someone do?”

  “Rumor has it that Bart asks for all manner of favors, and most of what I’ve heard is speculation and gossip. Might he have been behind it? It’s not outside the realm of possibility. I just can’t confirm it.”

  I’d hoped for more information, but I suspected the relatives of the people on the list I’d made at the library would be able to fill in some blanks for me. Presuming they didn’t call Bart as soon as they heard from me. Time to move on to the primary reason for my visit.

  “What do you remember about Wyatt Drummond’s DUI and robbery arrest?”

  Her eyes lit up. “Oh, you’re here because they found that poor girl’s body.”

  “Heather Stone.”

  She nodded. “Yep. Everyone was sure she’d left town. It’s so, so sad, but it’s not all that surprising when you think about it.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it’s hard to believe Bart Drummond would let someone get the best of him like that. Rumor has it he paid her off, but I can’t imagine him doing that. It would make him look weak.”

  “But I heard she was showing off a check at her going-away party.”

  She seemed to give that some thought. “I could be wrong, of course, but it sure doesn’t seem like his style.”

  “So why didn’t he squash the rumors?”

  “Good question. Makes you think maybe he did have her killed.”

  “Maybe, but if he did, he certainly didn’t have her buried there. Do you know anything about her?”

  She frowned. “It seems wrong to speak ill of the dead.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  Waving a hand, she let out a sigh. “I’ll tell you what I know.” She rested an arm on her chair, leaning closer to me. “She was a wild one, that Heather. Her aunt was likely sorry she’d agreed to keep her after the girl’s parents moved. Caused her nothin’ but trouble.”

  “What kind of trouble?”

  “This and that, mostly juvenile stuff. Underage drinkin’ at the state park. I’m pretty sure there was a vandalism arrest in there. She slashed some poor girl’s tires, but the charges were dropped. Never home by curfew. Hilde tried groundin’ her, but Heather never paid her any mind. I told Hilde to send her back to her parents, but Heather would always manipulate Hilde into believin’ she was gonna follow the straight and narrow. And she would for a bit, then go back to her old ways.”

  “And those incidents happened when she was in high school?” Which would be the reason I hadn’t found any arrest
records for her when I’d searched for her name last December. Juvenile records were sealed.

  “Oh, yes. She caused trouble when she came back the other times, but nothin’ illegal… not that I knew about anyways.”

  “You said she manipulated her aunt. Multiple people have told me she was manipulative.”

  “Yep.” She shook her head with a sigh. “And boy, was she a master at it. I’ve never seen so many people bamboozled by one girl. That Drummond boy to boot. Why, I wouldn’t be surprised if she was the one who broke into that garage and stole the baseball.”

  “Do you remember any of the rumors going around when Wyatt was arrested?”

  “Only that he turned his back on his family after his arrest. Wouldn’t even accept an attorney from them. Rumor had it the judge gave him a stiffer sentence than normal, but folks figured he was one of the few people not bought and paid for with Drummond money.”

  “Do you have any idea where Heather’s aunt lives?”

  She frowned. “You plan on talkin’ to her?”

  “Is that a problem?” I asked, caught off guard by her question.

  “No, I guess I’m just surprised. But that would be awfully sweet of you, dear. I’m sure she’d appreciate the condolences.”

  Well, crap. I hadn’t even thought about that, and now I felt guilty for letting Thelma believe my reasons were so selfless.

  “Hilde Browning. I don’t have her address, but she lives in the pale yellow house off Freeman Road. About a mile off the county road. Do you know where that is?”

  “No, ma’am, but it shouldn’t be a problem. I’ll bring her some flowers when I go.”

  “She loves Gerbera daisies,” Thelma said, her voice trailing. “Be sure to give her my condolences as well.”

  “I’ll tell her they’re from the both of us.”

  Tears filled her eyes. “You’re such a sweet girl.”

  Guilt tightened its grip on me, forcing me to admit, “That’s not the only reason I’m going, Miss Thelma.”

  Her eyes brightened. “Well, of course not, dear. You’re goin’ to ask her questions about Heather’s murder, but there’s no reason you can’t offer your condolences to start.”

  I stared at her in disbelief.

  “Please, give me more credit than that.” Then she said, “How’s Greta? She says she’s not seeing the other Drummond boy anymore.”

  “I don’t know anything about her love life, but I just saw her a few hours ago when I had lunch and she looked great.”

  Thelma nodded. “She seems happy, but I can’t help thinkin’ she’s lonely. She says she doesn’t see much of Lula now that she’s had the baby.”

  “Bingham keeps a pretty close eye on both Lula and the baby, from what I can tell,” I said. “But I haven’t talked to Greta about that either.” It occurred to me that perhaps I should. What if she was lonely?

  A quick glance to the clock on the wall told me that I needed to leave soon if I was going to get to the Drummonds’ on time. I also remembered that I hadn’t told Max I was going to be late. I turned off the recorder, shut my notebook, and put both into my purse.

  Standing, I gave Thelma a warm smile. “Thank you so much for letting me dig into the past.”

  “I’m not sure how helpful I’ve actually been, but if I think of anything else, I’ll be sure to call you at Hank’s.”

  Her offer caught me by surprise, mostly because she apparently had Hank’s number. Then again, maybe she’d been friends with his wife. Or perhaps she had an old phone book lying around. I was sure Hank had used the same phone number for decades. “That would be great. Thank you.”

  As I headed for the door, she called after me, “Be careful where you poke. Something tells me you’re about to wake up a sleeping bear.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Gladys and Roberta looked eager to see me when I emerged from the hall, and Gladys frantically waved me over.

  “You’ve got company,” she told me when I neared, and pointed out the blinds covering the plate glass window.

  Looking out the window, I frowned when I saw a man standing next to my car. “Wyatt.”

  “You know him?” Roberta asked. “Because we can go out and rough him up for you.”

  My mouth hung open in shock, but I quickly closed it. “That’s not necessary. I know him, and I’m not surprised. I abruptly ended a conversation with him right before coming over here, and I suspect he’s here to continue it.”

  “Are you safe?” Gladys asked with worry in her eyes.

  I gave her a reassuring smile. “Totally. Wyatt would never hurt me. In fact, he’s out there because he wants to protect me.”

  “Does he have somethin’ to worry about?” Roberta asked.

  Did he?

  “No,” I said truthfully. But I suspected that could easily change—the more I snooped around, the more dangerous things were bound to get. “Thanks for looking out for me.”

  “Always,” Gladys called after me as I headed for the exit.

  “You be careful!” Roberta shouted. “You’re our puzzle hookup. If anything happens to you, who knows when we’ll get another one.”

  I shot her a grin before I walked out the double glass doors, putting on my game face.

  Wyatt was leaning against my driver’s side door with his arms crossed. His dark gaze was trained on me as I headed toward him.

  “Do I want to know what you were doin’ in there?” he asked, remaining in place. His pose sent a clear message. You’re not leaving until I let you.

  I stopped several feet away, hooking my hand on the strap of the purse slung over my shoulder. “I don’t see what difference it makes to you.”

  “We need to finish our conversation.”

  “Okay,” I said, shifting my weight. “It’s simple. If you want me to continue looking into this, you need to give me something else to chase down, along with some kind of incentive to put up with your bullshit. You said you were going to give me answers.”

  He glanced away, into the trees surrounding the property, then turned back to me. “I asked Heather to marry me. That was what really caused my big fight with my parents. My father actually respected me for demanding ownership of the tavern, and he would have probably given it to me, only I told him I wanted it because I planned to marry Heather and we wanted to start a family.”

  I stared at him in shock. “Why in God’s name didn’t you tell me any of that earlier?”

  “Because I was embarrassed. She refused to marry me if I didn’t get ownership of the tavern, and no one else knew.”

  “Not even her friends?”

  “Did Abby mention it?” he asked with a questioning look.

  She hadn’t, but then again, she might not have known. According to her, Heather had operated by an out of sight, out of mind policy, and Abby had been out of town when all that went down. If Heather shared the news with anyone, it was likely Mitzi. Who refused to talk to me.

  I shook my head. “How the hell do you expect me to clear your name if you won’t be honest with me?”

  He glanced away. “I want you to find out most everything from other sources. That’ll help you see this through their eyes, not mine.” He turned back to me. “I didn’t kill her, Carly. I swear. And if you come to that conclusion on your own, maybe you’ll find it in your heart to trust me again.”

  “That is such bullshit, Wyatt,” I said, raising my voice and not caring a bit. “You don’t give a shit whether I trust you. You made that clear when we broke up last December.”

  “That’s not true!”

  “I believed you when you told me you’d help me,” I said, feeling angrier with every word. “I believed you when you said you’d share your past. Like a damn fool! Then you stonewalled me at every turn. You had to know I’d call you on your bullshit. You had to know how much it would hurt me, especially since you knew I’d been deceived before.”

  He studied me with wary eyes.

  “Well, say something!” I shouted
, taking a step closer.

  “I can’t,” he said, his voice thick. “Because you’re right. About all of it.”

  That was what I wanted to hear, yet somehow it made everything worse.

  “Do you realize how badly you hurt me?” I asked, my voice cracking. “You convinced me to trust you, and then you screwed me over just like every other guy before you.” Tears stung my eyes. “You broke me, Wyatt Drummond. I’ll never trust another man again, and now I’m destined to be alone for the rest of my life. So fuck. You.”

  Dismay covered his face. “Carly…”

  Embarrassment washed over me like hot tar. I hadn’t even realized I felt that way until that very moment, and now I’d confessed it to him. He knew the power he’d had over me, the power he still had. I had to get away from him. I couldn’t stand to look at him for another moment. “Get the hell away from my car.”

  “Carly.”

  I reached into my purse and pulled out the can of pepper spray Marco had gotten for me, and held it up, aiming it at his face. “I’m not afraid to use this, so I suggest you get away from my car.”

  He held his hands up in surrender. “Carly, I didn’t mean to hurt you. I swear.”

  “Go swear to someone else, because I’m done talkin’ to you,” I said, my Southern drawl coming in strong.

  “Carly.” He showed no sign of budging.

  I didn’t want to talk to him. I wanted to talk to Marco. I wanted to tell him about this—about the vulnerability that threatened to choke me—and it was then that something else dawned on me.

  Part of the reason I was so upset was because I did have feelings for Marco, and no matter how much that man bent over backward to show me that he would always be honest and have my best interests in mind, I would never fully trust him, at least not with my heart. Wyatt really had broken me.

  Tears welled in my eyes, and I felt close to breaking down into sobs. The sympathy in Wyatt’s eyes wasn’t helping.

  “Hey, tough guy,” Roberta called out from behind me, “you want a piece of me?”

  I glanced over my shoulder to see Roberta hobbling with her walker, coming toward us much faster than I would have thought possible. Gladys was marching right behind her, holding a flyswatter.