Outcast In Gray: A Clancy Evans Mystery (Clancy Evans PI Book 7)

by M. Glenn Graves

  “She’s not ailing enough to need that medicine,” I said as I hugged Ida and introduced Rosey.

  “Pleased to meet you, Mr. Washington,” Ida said. “You two sit down.”

  I watched Ida get two more small jelly glasses from her cupboard and pour about an ounce of magic into each. She placed the glasses in front of us.

  “It’s a tad more than medicine,” she said and grinned.

  “Miss Ida, do you know a person named K.C. Higgins?” Starnes said finally after there was a lull in our exchanged pleasantries.

  “Hmph,” she said and sipped a little of her clear liquid. “I got nothing for ya, ’cept maybe some old rumors.”

  “Rumors would be a start,” Starnes said.

  “Well, first off, I have heard of this K.C. Higgins person, but only through my youngins. Seems that she works with dogs, breeds them and trains them, and … I don’t know what-all. Jest has a lot to do with dogs, that’s all I know ‘bout that. Suppose to be gud at it.”

  “So you’ve never met her?” I said.

  “I seen her around a time or two, but not much. She doesn’t socialize with the folks I’m with. Not a church-kinda person, you know. Folks around don’t know much about her.”

  “You said there were rumors,” Starnes reminded her.

  “Yeah, there wuz a lot of that talk a few years back, but, I don’t cotton much to that.”

  “Well, we know absolutely nothing. We need something to go on.”

  “She’s tall and dark-haired.”

  “Okay,” Starnes said. I could sense that Starnes was growing impatient with her old friend.

  “Look, I don’t like to deal with gossip or rumors or the like, but if you must know, there was once, years back, a story that went around that maybe this K.C. Higgins was found in the woods by Aunt Jo. I don’t believe a word of it, but … well, that was the story. I heard tell that someone named K.C. lived for sum years with Josephine.”

  “Josephine Starling?” I said to clarify.

  “There’s only one Aunt Jo in these here mountains. She’s an interesting soul if there ever wuz a person of interest. But I don’t believe that tale about this K.C. Higgins coming outta the woods to live with Aunt Jo.”

  “Is that the only rumor you recall?” Starnes asked.

  “Not the only one. There wuz another one that Sister Elizabeth Ramsey used to tell to the ladies auxiliary after the meeting wuz over. She told it so often that nobody ever believed a word of it. Ran the story into the ground. She used to tell us this K.C. woman might a’been a twin or something … and that her twin brother wuz that little boy child who was mauled by a bear years back.”

  “Any truth to that bear attack?”

  “Well, it happens in the mountains, now and then. And there wuz a story years ago about this little feller who got partially eaten by a bear. We just never believed Sister Elizabeth ‘cause she had no way of connecting that woman K.C. Higgins who raised dogs to that little boy who wuz a Gosnell, I think.”

  “Any more rumors you can recall?” Starnes asked.

  “That’s about the sum of ’em. If I remember anything, I’ll get word to ya somehow and you can take what I tell ya with a small grain of salt,” Ida chuckled as she downed the remaining liquid in her glass.

  We thanked Ida and headed back to the Jeep. I noticed that Rosey stayed back on the front porch and chatted a little with Ida while Starnes and I walked slowly to the vehicle.

  “He’s quite the networker,” Starnes said as she looked back to see Rosey and Ida still talking on the porch.

  “If he can’t charm you, he can handle folks in other ways,” I said.

  “I’ll bet he can,” she agreed.

  “Back to the task at hand,” I said.

  “Ah, the task at hand. I suspect that you’re thinking exactly what I’m thinking.”

  I stopped walking and turned to face Starnes. She halted as well and waited for me to tell her what I was thinking.

  “We have a bonafide clue and we’re going on a road trip.”

  “You bet your life we are,” she said.

  We turned back to see that Rosey was now heading towards us. We waited for him to approach.

  “Ida told me that this K.C. Higgins you were asking about lives a long way from here. My comeback was that everything is a long way from here. She just laughed at me.”

  We approached the Jeep and were about to get inside.

  “She even gave me a gift,” he said and held up a quart jar full of White Magic.

  “You need to be really careful with that stuff,” Starnes said. “I’ve heard tell of folks goin’ blind from drinking it.”

  Rosey climbed into the back seat with Dog after he put Sam into the back. Starnes winked at me as we were climbing into the front.

  “I think you and Ida Carter hit it off rather well,” Starnes said to Rosey.

  “She’s quite a lady,” he said.

  “You don’t know the half of it,” Starnes said. “You’re the first black man to ever enter her house, sit at her table, and drink her White Magic. You’re also the first stranger to visit her and walk away with a quart jar of her precious mash after their first visit to her house, black or white.”

  “Should I feel honored?”

  “If you keep a journal, then you need to write this down as a day of all days. I’ve never seen Ida as friendly with a first-time visitor as she was with you, Mr. Washington.”

  “Probably the magic in the liquid,” he smiled.

  We pulled away from Ida Carter’s place, waving to her as she waved back.

  “Oh, one more thing,” Rosey began, “Ida told me that we need to take care about picking up rocks and looking under them. She said you would know what that meant.”

  Starnes smiled at Rosey in the rear view mirror.

  “Yeah. It’s something I tell her that we scientists do when investigating crimes.”

  “She told me to remind you that some rocks here in the mountains have snakes under them,” Rosey said.

  “That would be the truth. I’ve even known of people picking up a rock in the winter and finding a curled up critter not yet ready to be awakened. But more so, sometimes you don’t even need to lift the rock off the ground in order to disturb the tranquility of the environs.”

  “You sound rather sophisticated,” I said to Starnes.

  “I’m talking to that educated man in the back seat … among lesser institutions, we’re talking Harvard and Oxford. Am I correct?”

  “Don’t turn around ladies. I think I’m blushing,” Rosey said.

  I could sense that he was smiling as we headed towards Aunt Jo’s place.

  33

  “So we’re off to see the Wizard,” Rosey said as we were traveling across McAdams county.

  “I don’t think you call a woman a wizard,” I said.

  “What would you call her?” he said.

  “I have no idea. The word ‘exceptional’ comes to mind,” I said.

  “Listen, you two. She has the sight. That puts her in a special category of a select few. She can see things, feel things, and even experience things that are … well, foreign to normal people. She’s not a wizard or any other modern category. Folks with the sight are rare but they have been around for hundreds of years … if not longer.”

  Starnes had a little fire in the tone of her voice. Perhaps Rosey and I had crossed some line in our joking about Josephine Starling. Some things are sacred. I understood that. I also understood that some things are to be feared.

  “Didn’t mean to offend you,” Rosey said from the backseat.

  “Didn’t offend me. I’ve known Aunt Jo all of my life. She’s a good woman, albeit strange and a tinge weird. I will allow that. But I don’t care to disrespect her or her strange gift. Besides that, she has helped us. Sometimes the end justifies the means.”

  “Sometimes,” Rosey said.

  An hour later we were all sitting in Aunt Jo’s small hovel of a house drinking tea. We le
t the dogs roam a bit, but I told Sam to stay relatively close. I was working on the notion that if Sam stayed close, Dog would follow suit.

  I was watching Rosey. He was behaving himself quite well, acting so nonchalant, that, if I didn’t know him better, I would have sworn that he had been raised in this environment. My friend was a chameleon.

  Aunt Jo was sitting on the sofa next to Rosey. I was resting comfortably in the green cushioned chair while Starnes was perched in the red one. Josephine Starling was eyeing Rosey as if she had never seen an African American before today, but without the offending stare.

  “And what is it you do, Mr. Washington?” Aunt Jo said.

  “I work for the government. Mostly contract work. If they have a crisis somewhere, they call in a person with my skills.”

  “Crisis, you say. And what are your skills, Mr. Washington?”

  “Call me Rosey, Miss Starling.”

  “Only if you will call me Aunt Jo,” she said.

  “Aunt Jo it is.”

  She sipped her tea and smiled at him. Starnes and I were intrigued by her preoccupation with our handsome friend.

  “I don’t get many men visitors here in Ivy Gap,” she said.

  “Any particular reason for that, Aunt Jo?” Rosey said.

  “Yes, I would imagine there is a reason for that. Most men are afraid of me.”

  There seemed to be a twinkle in her eye.

  “And why would men be afraid of you?”

  “I know more than they do.”

  Rosey laughed aloud while Aunt Jo sipped her tea without sharing his laughter.

  “Is that true for all men?” he said.

  “Could be. I’ve never been tested. Most men don’t want to risk failing the test.”

  “Fragile male ego,” I said.

  Rosey smiled and nodded in affirmation.

  “We are a fragile lot, I must admit. However, I will confess to you that I find a woman’s intellect stimulating and genuinely helpful.”

  “Is that why you enjoy working with Clancy Evans here?” Aunt Jo said.

  “She’s an old friend,” he said.

  “Yes, I believe she is. Your relationships goes way back to … your uncle, correct?”

  I couldn’t tell if Aunt Jo was showing off or just trying to prove her point, which, in any case was tantamount to the same thing.

  “I suppose that Clancy has informed you about my Uncle Jo,” he said.

  “No, nary a word. I just happen to know that. Information comes and goes with me, Rosey. Sometimes it’s a gift. Sometimes not so much,” she said.

  “I wish you could’ve met my Uncle Jo. You would have liked him.”

  “I am sure of it,” she said as if she knew more about Joe Jenkins than she was willing to share at the moment. I shook my head internally without moving a muscle. Aunt Jo was something else.

  She poured another round of tea and we continued to enjoy her herbal creation. This particular mixture had a hint of peach mixed with some other exotic fruit flavor which I could not identify. I decided against asking.

  “You folks did not come all this way for me to meet Rosey Washington, as nice a young man as he is. So, let’s get down to business. What do you want to know about K.C. Higgins?”

  “Actually, she was sort of a side bar question for us. The major reason we came here, Aunt Jo,” Starnes said, “was to ask about the person that Mamie Shelton saw playing checkers with Hack Ponder.”

  “Oh, that,” she said and drank some tea. “This is good tea, even if I made it myself. Forgive me for bragging a little. I love experimenting with various tea leaves. I find that the variety of leaves blended oftentimes enhances the flavors. Some flavors enhance other flavors just by being in the same cup. Don’t you think?”

  “Well said,” I said to Aunt Jo. “You have a knack for creating delightful teas.”

  “Thank you, Clancy. I shall take that as a high compliment.”

  “I meant it as such.”

  “You’re so kind. Now, about what Mamie saw that day… Clancy, you already know that Hack Ponder had a … what’s the word … penchant? … Yes, that’ll do … a penchant for tall women … since the day he first laid eyes on you. I know you registered that comment he made. So, it should come as no surprise to you that whenever a woman over … say, five feet and seven inches came into his store, that old Hack used to get kind of excited. His habit was to invite them to sit and play checkers with him. The truth is, by this time in his life, Old Hack was rather harmless, although I will say his imagination ran wild with him from time to time.”

  I had stopped drinking my tea and was listening close to Aunt Jo’s insights regarding Hack Ponder and his predilection. I had indeed filed away Hack Ponder’s comment about my height the day I met him. Now that he was dead, I had placed his comment about my height in the background and labeled it merely as interesting and a not-so-valuable piece of trivia. It seems that I had labeled it prematurely; at least as far as Aunt Jo was concerned. I was way beyond asking how this woman knew all of this. I crossed that weary bridge too many times already.

  I think Starnes was even amazed. She had stopped sipping her tea as well. Rosey was listening intently to Aunt Jo’s comments.

  There was a pause in Aunt Jo’s information.

  “So who was Hack Ponder playing checkers with?” Starnes said.

  “Oh, my. Hack played with anybody and everybody. But if your question is more specific, and I know it is, and you want to know who was the tall woman playing checkers with Hack Ponder, well, you’ll have to ask Mamie Shelton. I wasn’t there.”

  “So you don’t know,” Starnes said.

  “I didn’t say that. I merely said I was not present on that occasion. Ask Mamie.”

  “Mamie is not altogether, shall we say,” I said.

  “You mean her visions and such?”

  “Precisely,” Starnes said.

  “You told her to tell us about this tall woman playing checkers with him,” I said.

  “I did.”

  “But she didn’t tell us who the woman was,” Starnes said.

  “Yes, I know. I guess the reason is that Mamie doesn’t know who the woman is.”

  “That could be it,” I said trying to hide my sarcasm without much success.

  “Oh, Clancy. You’re a delight, you know that. I love your wit. It’s a shame you and your mother don’t always share the same kind of humor.”

  I had to admit I was taken aback. Only a handful of people knew that my mother and I had what could easily be referred to as a dubious relationship. We loved each other, but more often than not we played the roles of adversaries when it came to relating.

  “I’m glad someone appreciates my forthright humor,” I said and looked at Rosey. He shrugged at me without smiling.

  “So who was the woman?” I said to Aunt Jo.

  “Well, the woman that Mamie Shelton saw that day playing checkers with Hack Ponder was none other than K.C. Higgins. Now isn’t that a strange come-around?” Aunt Jo said.

  “That would be one word for it,” I said.

  “And what would be another word for it, Clancy?” Aunt Jo said.

  “A lead,” I said. “A solid lead.”

  34

  “How about some lunch?” Aunt Jo said as we were digesting her unforeseen information. It would seem that K.C. Higgins had appeared on our radar almost as nothing more than a mere coincidence. There was no telling what this young woman had to do with any of this, but her name was cropping up now and we were beginning to put some rather strange puzzle pieces into some type of image. It was too early to tell what that image might reveal, but it was beginning to form.

  Chasing clues is what we detectives do. It might sound like glorious work, but the truth is it is not. It is rather mundane and dreadfully time consuming. Not all clues are the same. Some lead to other clues, some lead to dead ends. I had the feeling that this clue with K.C. Higgins’ name attached to it was going to be one of those dead ends. She
played checkers with an old coot named Hack Ponder. She’s tall. She raises dogs. Wow. I could already see the cul-de-sac appearing on the horizon and I was not anxious to go back across McAdams County and chase this one down. Besides, I figured that I had already met K.C. Higgins and two of her dogs. Since she was known for raising dogs, I imagined she had a whole passel of dogs. Yippie.

  There was one thing that gave me pause in my suspicion that this Higgins’ lead was not going anywhere. I never trusted coincidences in a murder investigation.

  Lunch sounded great.

  “That would be wonderful, Aunt Jo,” I said before Starnes could refuse the invitation. “I will be happy to help you in the kitchen.”

  She smiled at me. I thought for a moment she was going to laugh; but, to my surprise, she didn’t laugh.

  “Clancy, you’re a wonderful person and a great detective. The culinary arts are not one of your masteries. I think it would be best if Rosey joins me in the kitchen. Besides, I have some secrets he might like to know in regards to food preparation.”

  She waved for him to follow and he did. Starnes looked at me with great exasperation.

  “We need to keep moving,” Starnes said after Rosey and Aunt Jo had left the room.

  “We also need to eat. You don’t trust Aunt Jo’s cooking?” I said.

  “On the contrary. She’s known for her … recipes. Far and wide. You’ll be delighted that I didn’t argue. But, we have to go by two o’clock. I want to visit with K.C. Higgins.”

  “Yeah. Can’t wait.”

  “It’s a lead,” Starnes said.

  “Not much of a lead, but a lead. Does this mean that we’re going to chase down everybody who played checkers with Hack Ponder?” I said.

  “If we have to,” Starnes said.

  The lunch that Rosey and Aunt Jo put together for us was beyond comparison. Aunt Jo made up some kind of chicken salad that contained enough fruits and berries to be considered a dessert by any measurement, except for the chicken. She also whipped together some apples for a pie. It rivaled anything my mother and Sarah, our cook and housekeeper as well as close friend, had conspired together from the days of my youth. As one might expect, Aunt Jo had a concoction of tea leaves that made most homemade tea-makers cringe in disbelief. The end result was that our little foursome faired pretty well for such an impromptu, last minute affair. I wish I could do as much with hours of preparation.