Jewel of a Murderer

by M. Glenn Graves

  “In the absence of rocket launches, tell me. I’m desperate for morsels.”

  “I retrieved the file that the doctor at that clinic in Burnsville had on Pearl Higgins.”

  “The clinic sent you the file on her?”

  “I didn’t say that. I wouldn’t say that the clinic actually sent me anything.”

  “Do I want to know how you had access to that file?”

  “Maybe not. You want to know what I know?”

  “Without a doubt.”

  “It seems that Pearl had visited the clinic on several occasions. I’m guessing here it was because either she really liked the doctor, Samuel Bernstein, or it was the low-cost medical care he provided. At any rate, I was able to decipher, aka, translate, some doctor-scribbling in the file. It was a notation he made. He had found some scarring on her uterus. He wrote the word forceps in the margin followed by a question mark. He also scribbled the words fistula formation and another question mark. Perhaps he did that so it would remind him to ask her about whatever it was that he saw, or maybe to do some follow-up on it. At any rate, it was there, and I thought it could be something.”

  “Could you tell when that last notation was scribbled?”

  “The doctored dated his scribbled notation. Two years prior to his delivery of Odem.”

  “You come across any follow up remarks concerning his marginal notations?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Thank you for your diligence. It seems that you have bested the official police computer guy and his research on Odem Higgins.”

  “I’m not finished. I told you I had two things.”

  “You gave me two things – two marginal notations.”

  “That was one thing. Comes under the heading marginal notes.”

  I almost laughed, but quickly stopped from making any non-verbal sounds.

  “Okay, item number two. Let’s have it.”

  “The other was simply my innate curiosity about words. I thought the name Odem was unusual. So, I did some searching in several databases concerning names and origins and the like.”

  “And you found something.”

  “Not during my name searches. Odem’s a bit rare as a given name.”

  “But you did find something.”

  “You know me. Relentless. Never say uncle or whatever expression you folks use for giving up. At any rate, I found the word odem. It’s a Hebrew word, transliterated, of course. It literally means redness or red stone. It was the name of the first stone in the breastplate of Aaron, the first priest of the Hebrew people. I located a description of the breastplate in the second book of the Pentateuch.”

  “Hold on a second. I know you to be thorough, but do you think I need all of this data on the word odem?”

  “Knowledge is power, love. Is it possible to know too much?”

  “Answer to that goes to usage. If you don’t use what you know, then what you know has little if any value to you.”

  “But you generally utilize what you know, or have I inflated your value as an investigator?”

  “Some days I do better than others.”

  “Modesty. Tsk, tsk. Such a wondrous trait and so lovely, too.”

  “How do you know how lovely or not-so-much-to-look-at I am?”

  “Confusing syntax, but I catch your drift. Photos, Clancy girl, I have lots and lots of photos of you. I can also see you. Remember that little camera that Uncle Walters insisted that I have? My eye, if you please.”

  “I’m beginning to feel a lot like Ulysses.”

  “Ah, very good. One of those mythological illusions. See, my point exactly. Knowledge is power. You have the power of knowing that once upon a time…”

  “I get it. Can you cut to the chase?”

  “See, another of those wonderful references to something other than what we are speaking about. Okay, here’s where I was going with my valuable research about Odem Higgins. Absent from his birth certificate but present on his high school graduation diploma is his middle name – Odem Stone Higgins.”

  “I knew that,” I said, somewhat disappointed that her news was not so revelatory.

  “But don’t you see the connection?”

  “The connection? What to what?”

  “The odem or sardius, the Greek word for that stone, and the modern word carnelian all refer to the stone. Hence, Odem Stone Higgins,” she said with some forced emphasis.

  “You’re stretching,” I said and meant it.

  “Not if you allow me to finish my report.”

  “I thought you had.”

  “I liked that name Stone so much that I went back and did some more snooping around Burnsville and Yancey County. I was hoping to find someone named Stone Higgins. Alas, no such fortune. However, I did come across a person named Stone Connelly. Stone Connelly died years before Odem Higgins was born. Stone Connelly was a well-known carpenter in Yancey County. He fell off some scaffolding and landed on a pile of rocks. Died a few days later from massive hemorrhaging in his brain. He was forty-nine, the death certificate said. Would you care to know what else that death certificate revealed?”

  “Will my power increase per this knowledge?”

  “In all likelihood.”

  “Let me have it then,” I said.

  “He had the same address at the time of his death as that of Pearl Higgins.”

  “Same address.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Apartment dwelling or full-fledged house on a street?” I said.

  “Trailer in a trailer park.”

  “Mistake on the death certificate?”

  “Don’t think so. I checked into it. Seems that Mister Stone Connelly was nearly anti-government everything. Didn’t care much for laws, so much so that he had a common law wife at the time of his death.”

  “And I bet I can guess her name,” I said and smiled at Sam who turned from his window gazing to look at me. Could he have understood that information as well?

  Chapter 38

  “I remember all that,” Rogers said. “I don’t, however, recall you mentioning Sam’s reaction whenever I disclosed those facts about Pearl’s common law husband.”

  “At the time it was simply a movement, a turning of his head. I didn’t think much of it, except the timing of it. I was still learning about his ever-growing vocabulary, but I had no way of knowing what caused him to look at me at that exact moment. I still wonder.”

  “I would say coincidence, but since you don’t like that word and use it oh-so sparingly, I’ll not suggest it.”

  “If I believed in coincidences, I’d be a lousy detective. Hence, happenstance is not in my vernacular.”

  “There’s a reason for everything that happens?”

  “Doubt if I go that far with it, but, professionally, for me, whenever I am working a case, chance is not something I put in my pocket. Cause and effect is what I want to know.”

  “So you can be ambivalent if you choose to be?” she said.

  “Absolutely.”

  “Okay, so back to this first case for the dog, or the first case you worked after he had come along. I did more research for you on Pearl, Stone, and Odem.”

  “You did. But you do recall that I had to drive to Burnsville to talk first-hand with Doctor Bernstein.” It wasn’t a question since I knew that she would recall that trip. I logged all of my travels with her and she kept a complete voice-record of every phone call we exchanged from the first day she came online.

  “Of course, I do. But I don’t have much retrievable data about that trip. I’m looking at the updates you called in, but not much else.”

  “Well, let me fill in some gaps for you,” I said.

  I called Dr. Samuel Bernstein but the number was no longer in service. Rogers did some checking and discovered that Bernstein had stopped working at the clinic some five years earlier. Rogers gave me some numbers to try and finally I reached a doctor who actually knew him.

  “Retired,” she said. “Lives alone somewhere in the
county here. I don’t see him much at all. I think he has withdrawn from community involvement.”

  “You have an address?” I said.

  “A location, nothing more.”

  “I’ll take what you’ve got.”

  McGrady and I were sitting in Wineski’s office the next day. This was getting to be a habit. I informed Wineski of my doctor lead.

  “Ain’t much of a lead,” McGrady said.

  “More than I had yesterday. Worth checking out,” I said.

  “Long drive to Yancey County, North Carolina,” Wineski said.

  “I’ll take Sam.”

  “What about you, McGrady? You up for another trip with Clancy?”

  “I’m still unwinding from our excursion to Jersey. I have another direction I wanna go, Captain.”

  “Whattaya thinkin’?” Wineski asked.

  “I’m gonna ask Sergeant Andrews to help me. My thinking is that the brother and sister were the primary targets and that the Sizemore kid just happened along trying to be a hero. I think the killer went after Sizemore because Sizemore saw him. Andrews and I can do some leg work on that angle while Clancy chases down her Sizemore lead.”

  If I didn’t know better, I would have sworn that McGrady had talked that over with my mother. Sounded a lot like her take on the murders.

  “Why Andrews?” Wineski said.

  “Her PR investigative skills are more pleasing than Evans’,” he said.

  “Pleasing to whom?” Wineski asked.

  “Me and the general populace.”

  “Does Andrews know what she’s getting herself into?” Wineski said.

  “Whattaya mean?” McGrady said.

  “Does she know how much fun it is to work with you?” I said.

  “About as much fun as it is to work with you,” McGrady said.

  “Touché. I guess that means it’ll be a barrel of laughs for both of you,” I said. “And ever so pleasing for everyone concerned.”

  “I’ll find Andrews and speak with her…before you leave on your errands, McGrady,” Wineski said.

  “Sure thing. You can talk to her, if you like,” McGrady said.

  “You bet your sweet life I’ll talk with her,” he stood abruptly, and his desk chair scooted away from him quickly as he bounded out of his office. “I’m still in charge of this case.”

  “What’s wrong with him?” McGrady said to me as I closed the door to Wineski’s office after exiting. I watched the captain hustle towards Andrews’ desk.

  “It’s personal with Wineski,” I said. “He trained Nancy Andrews, so he’s vested.”

  “Sure. He just likes to control things,” McGrady grunted.

  “He is the captain, you know.”

  “Yeah, but…never mind,” he said and walked away.

  Wineski came back with Sergeant Andrews following him.

  “I found her,” he said as he reentered his office.

  “Appears you did,” I said, watching them pass in front of me as they went inside Wineski’s office. I started to walk away.

  “You come in here, too,” Wineski said to me.

  I obliged.

  “Close the door, Sergeant,” Wineski said. “You game for this assignment with McGrady?”

  “I am,” she said as she closed the door gently.

  “You wanna sit?” Wineski asked.

  “I’ll stand,” Andrews said.

  “You know Clancy here?” Wineski said.

  “By reputation,” she said and nodded in my direction. I nodded back.

  “Clancy’s been trying to help McGrady for a few weeks now. Key word is trying. He’s a handful to work with; I just wanted you to know that from me. You might have to reel him in from time to time, so be prepared. Stay on your toes.”

  “Always, Captain, always,” she said.

  “You trust him?” Wineski asked.

  “No reason not to, at least not yet.”

  “I want updates from you, Andrews. Twice a day.”

  Andrews nodded as she opened the door and headed to McGrady’s desk. She stopped to say something to him. Wineski and I watched them through the glass. They talked briefly and then they left the building together.

  “Whattaya think?” Wineski said to me after several minutes.

  “About?” I said.

  “McGrady’s plan.”

  “Same angle my mother had.”

  “Am I supposed to be impressed by that?”

  “Maybe, maybe not. It’s worth checking into, I suppose. Maybe they’ll come across something that I missed on the siblings.”

  “Never known you to miss much.”

  “If you rattle cages long enough, sometimes the truth falls out.”

  “And if the cages that Andrews and McGrady rattle cause the truth to fall out, will that prove you to be less of a detective?”

  “Unlikely.”

  “What will it prove then?”

  “That I’m about to waste time and money going to Burnsville, North Carolina. And that my mother was right.”

  “Yikes,” Wineski said.

  “Yeah, me too.”

  Chapter 39

  Sam and I were headed towards North Carolina once again. With just the two of us, it would be an easier trip. I wouldn’t have to restrain my impulses to shoot McGrady.

  I had told Captain Wineski where I was headed, and he told me to talk with Starnes Carver from our lab before I set out. Starnes Carver was a short, feisty crime scene specialist who had the reputation of being all business with no frivolous sides. I didn’t know her at that time, but I knew of her work ethic. Efficient and terse. Like me, she had less tactfulness than most people. To the point with few words. I had more mirth in my manner.

  “I was told that he lives out towards High Peak in Yancey County,” I said to Starnes while I watched her examine something small with her sophisticated microscope.

  “Long way from here,” she said, still focusing on whatever she was studying in the microscope.

  “Got that part. I’m going there. Any recommendations?”

  “About what?”

  “About anything you can think of,” I said.

  “As you approach the Ivy Gap area of the county, just over the line from McAdams County…you’ll be on Highway Nineteen E. Turn left onto Ivy Gap Road and then look for Grey Wolf Road. Turn right onto Grey Wolf.”

  “How is it you know this area so well?”

  “Born and raised just a few peaks over in McAdams County. Used to hike the AT a lot as a youngster. The AT is north of where you’re headed. You got a number or any other thing regarding the location of this house?”

  “Nada,” I said.

  “You’re gonna get lost.”

  “Thanks for your confidence.”

  “Has nothing to do with my confidence. Mountains are tough on city folks.”

  “I don’t call myself a city folk.”

  “Where do you live?” she asked.

  “Norfolk,” I said rather sheepishly.

  “My point. So, make sure you have your sidearm with you and visible. Who’s going along?”

  “You mean with me?”

  “I do.”

  “Sam.”

  “Good. A man can often help in some difficult situations.”

  “Male, but not a man. Dog. Name is Sam.”

  She looked up from her microscope but said nothing. Her face was completely non-expressive, but I detected a hint of disdain in her eyes.

  “You think I’m crazy,” I said.

  “Crossed my mind. Why do you need to go to that part of the world?”

  “Following a lead.”

  “So, who’s up there you need to see?”

  “A retired doctor who cared for a woman years ago.”

  “Cared for,” she repeated.

  “Delivered a baby, but I suspect he also saw her a few years before she had that baby. He made some notes in her file and I need to ask him about those notes.”

  I told her more than I had
intended, but I found her more than a little interesting and rather easy to converse with despite her abruptness.

  “How’d you get hold of that medical file?”

  “I don’t have her medical file.”

  “Then how do you know what’s in it?”

  “I read it,” I lied. I thought it expedient to do so under the circumstances. “Listen, I just need your help in getting there, and whatever else you might share concerning that part of the world. What I did to gain the information really doesn’t concern you.”

  I was trying to be nice and failing miserably.

  “Sorry, it’s my nature to ask questions. Facts are my way of doing work. I have this insatiable desire to know as much as I can before I advise.”

  “No problem. So, anything else I need to know?”

  “Yeah, it’s a bad idea for you to go up there alone, even with a male dog.”

  “You wanna come with me?” I said, not really meaning to offer her an invitation.

  “Can’t. Too much work here, too many open cases, and not enough time to do it all.”

  “So, if I get in a bind, I can call you?”

  “For what?” she said.

  “Come rescue me.”

  Her laugh was brief and unpleasant. No humor in it. She moved away from the microscope. I followed her down to the other end of the long worktable.

  “You’re likely enough to get in a bind, but sister, there’s no way on God’s green earth I’m coming over there to rescue you from whatever it is you got yourself into. But I will give you a name.”

  “A name?”

  “Yeah. A fellow that lives right there as you turn off Highway Nineteen E at Ivy Gap. Reddy Reese is the name. Remember it. Might save your life. Find him before you head up towards High Peak. You’ll need his expertise at some point.”

  “What’s his expertise?”

  “He opens doors.”

  “Is that some kind of metaphor?” I said.

  “A what?”

  “Metaphor…you say one thing, but you mean something else.”

  “You could say that.”

  “So, what is it you mean by opens doors?”

  “If it’s closed, he can open it. If it shuts down, he can start it up. If it breaks, he can fix it. If someone shoots at you, he’ll shoot back and hit them. If it’s to be found, he can find it. He networks on a level envied by politicians around the world. You two should get along fabulously.”