The Ashford Place

by Jean Copeland

  “It’s not like I don’t have anything better to do around here.” Belle stood up. “Thanks for trying.”

  “No problem.”

  They suddenly slipped into an awkward silence. Belle wanted desperately to say something, but over the last several days, she’d realized her attraction to Ally was much more than physical and at that point, the friend route was without question the sensible path to follow.

  “Okay then.” Ally started to walk away but stopped and gestured between them. “We’re okay, right?”

  “Pfffft. Oh yeah. We’re great.”

  “Okay, good,” Ally said. “Let me know how you make out with the sister.”

  “You got it.”

  As Ally walked away, Belle dismissed the tug at her heart that grew more extreme each time Ally left her.

  ***

  Before she had time to become too maudlin over Ally, Angelo, the mason, drove his mini Bearcat tractor up the lawn toward the towering oak tree, the location Belle had chosen for the koi pond.

  “’Morning,” he shouted over the puttering engine. “Figured I’d dig out the hole for the pond first, then finish up the rest of the stonework. That okay?”

  “Sure, whatever. I’ll be inside working, so give a holler if you need anything.”

  He waved, threw his tractor in gear, and it chugged up the slight incline to the oak tree.

  Belle walked inside and began patching two holes in the hallway. As she sanded the jagged plaster edges, she wondered about their origin. One looked as though it could’ve been from a punch. She made a fist and fit it into the hole. She couldn’t imagine a young girl having enough aggression or physical strength to hit a hole in the wall like that. Judy and Aunt Marion were the only ones who’d lived there…unless the holes were made before Uncle Wes was killed.

  Or had someone else been there?

  A chill ran through her. The house was starting to feel like it had a soul. It was creeping into her head, telling her stories of violence and secrecy, whether she wanted to hear them or not. As awkward as she felt about it, she had to call Craig and get his sister’s name for one last stab at a resolution.

  After completing the patch jobs, she washed her hands and the spackle knives in the kitchen sink.

  “Miss Ashford,” Angelo called from the yard.

  She walked out onto the patio wiping her hands on paper towel. “What’s up, Angelo?”

  Red was standing with him, peering down into a large hole.

  “The backhoe hit something. Can you come over here?”

  She trotted across the yard and looked down at the partially unearthed object. “What is it?”

  “It looks like one of those old milk-delivery bins. I think that’s rope around it, or what’s left of rope. Should I dig it out?”

  “I don’t know.” If she’d thought she felt creeped out before… “It’s probably a dead pet or something. Is it gonna release some kind of poltergeist thing if we do?”

  He glanced at her like she was nuts. “An old pile of cat bones? I bet those bins are worth something. I’ll see if I can get it out in one piece. You can take it to the consignment shop.”

  Belle grimaced. “After I take it to the fumigator’s.”

  He grabbed his shovel and dug around the bin until he was able to free it. He placed it on the grass and looked at her. “Well? Go ahead. Open it.”

  “No way. You open it. You’re a man.”

  “What does that have to do with anything?”

  “Men are used to gross things. Besides, it’s not often I’m on the beneficial side of a sexist stereotype.”

  “Fine. I’m not scared. It’s not like whatever’s in there is still alive.” But he stood there in the half circle he formed with her and the dog staring at the box, scratching his balding, sunburnt head.

  “What are you waiting for?” she asked

  “If this is a buried treasure, I want half.”

  “All right,” she shouted, queasy with anticipation.

  He used the shovel to flick off the layers of ropes, which gave way with little effort. Then he attempted to lift the lid with his foot, but it wouldn’t budge.

  “Looks like it’s rusted shut. I’m gonna need a screwdriver to open it, but I may ruin it if I do. Should I leave it?”

  She willed herself to be patient with him. “No. You shouldn’t. Get your screwdriver.”

  When Angelo went to his truck, Belle bent to look at the bin and shook it with her foot to see if the contents rattled. Nothing but the slight hiss of a small mass moving from one side to the other. It probably was the dust of the entombed remains of a family pet.

  “Ick.”

  Perhaps she’d offer it to Angelo, and he would take it to the consignment shop.

  “Okay, here we go,” he said as he returned brandishing a large screwdriver. “Watch out, Red.” He gently pushed the dog aside as he worked at the lid.

  As he was about to pry it open, Belle slipped behind the Bearcat for cover. When he inserted the screwdriver fully under the rim and pressed down, the lid sprang up with a shower of rust flakes.

  “It’s a garbage bag.” He poked it gently with the point of the screwdriver. “Something’s in it though.”

  Belle placed her hand over her heart. “What’s left of dear Fluffy or Fido, no doubt,” she said solemnly. “Okay, this is ghoulish.” She turned to him with a sweet, obsequious smile. “Can you please rebury it in the woods back there? You can keep the container if you think it’s worth anything.”

  “It’s in decent condition…considering. I bet I can bang this dent out. All right.” He grabbed his shovel. “I’ll chuck the bag in a hole and bury it.”

  “Thank you. There’s a bottle of your favorite alcohol in it for this.”

  She walked back to the house to call Ralph Jr. to see when he was going to finish the wall demolition between the kitchen and dining room. As she waited for him to answer his cell, she glanced out the window into the backyard.

  “What the fuck?” Angelo bellowed so loudly, birds scattered from the trees in all directions.

  She ran out to see what the commotion was and met Angelo coming out of the woods, his perpetually bronzed face whiter than Sheetrock.

  “What’s the matter?”

  He pointed his thumb over his shoulder. “That’s no fucking cat in that bag.”

  “What do you mean?” she said, trying to remain calm.

  He led her into the woods and pointed to the overturned container. The contents in the partially decomposed trash bag had broken through and spilled into the shallow hole Angelo had dug.

  She gasped at the tattered newborn blanket and tiny skull beside it.

  “Oh my God,” she whispered, trying to subdue her gag reflex. “That looks like a baby’s head.”

  His face contorted as he rolled the head with the tip of his work boot.

  “Don’t do that. Don’t touch anything.” She turned away from the scene and called Ally’s cell.

  “You calling the cops?”

  She nodded as they hurried out of the woods into the sunlit yard.

  “What do you want me to do about the…”

  All she heard was the ringing of Ally’s phone as she ran toward the house.

  ***

  Belle sat at the patio table with her knees up to her chin and a glass of red wine to her lips. She was beginning to think her hands would never stop shaking.

  Yes, she was breaking her summer rule of no alcohol during the day, but discovering the bones of a dead infant in her own yard was a legitimate-enough excuse.

  What was taking Ally so long in there? Whatever the reason, Belle was quite content to wait right where she was.

  Finally, Ally emerged from the woods and headed toward her. “How are you doing?”

  “I’m day-drinking a bottle of wine all by myself. Does that answer your question?”

  Ally gave her shoulders a quick, comforting massage.

  “How much longer is that scary guy with
the camera gonna be skulking around my yard? He’s freaking me out.”

  “Horace?” Ally said fondly. “He’s our evidence guy. He’s brilliant. He may look like he just crawled out of an open grave, but he’s a real sweetheart and awesome at his job.”

  “He certainly looks like he enjoys it.”

  Ally puckered her lips trying not to smile. “He’s almost done processing the scene. We’re waiting on the ME’s office to get here.”

  “What happens then?”

  “She also has to process the scene, take photos, and give Horace the blanket, trash bag, and the container for testing. Then she’ll take the bones to the ME’s office in Farmington.”

  “What’ll they do with them?”

  “First, verify they’re human, a technicality because they obviously are. Then hopefully, she’ll be able to determine a cause of death. Meanwhile, forensics will try to collect DNA so we can see about IDing the remains.”

  “It had to belong to either Aunt Marion or Judy, don’t you think?”

  “No other family ever lived here?” Ally said.

  “It’s always been in the Ashford family. My great-grandfather built the house in the early 1920s. He had the lot next door, too, for farming. But I can check with my dad. He might know something I don’t.”

  Ally nodded as she wrote notes on a pad.

  “I bet it was Judy’s, and it was stillborn,” Belle said, recovering from her near catatonic state. “That’s why she committed suicide, from the grief. It’s all coming together now.”

  “Take it easy, Quincy. One step at a time. We have to see if we can gather viable genetic material first, although it’s more than likely it belonged to one of them.”

  “Yeah, Judy.”

  “You can’t assume that. Marion could’ve had a stillborn baby at home, and in her despondence, she could’ve buried it in the yard so she could stay close to it.”

  “Eww, really?”

  “Maybe. Or…” Ally seemed to drift off in speculation. “The pregnancy could’ve been the result of an affair Marion had. Or it could’ve belonged to some neighbor girl who wasn’t married and didn’t want anyone to know she was pregnant. It could’ve belonged to anyone who crept back there in the cover of night and buried it.”

  “Are you suggesting the baby could’ve been murdered?”

  “Belle, right now this is a murder scene,” Ally said. “The assumption is it was murdered and stuffed into that container, at least until the ME can determine otherwise.”

  “I can’t believe someone in my family would do that.”

  “It was known to happen back then. Hell, it still happens today. Why do you think we have safe-haven laws—so girls don’t have to dump babies in trash cans at high school dances.”

  “Ugh. I don’t know how much more of this topic I can take,” she said as she refilled her glass.

  Ally frowned. “It’s definitely the worst part of a job in law enforcement.”

  Sheriff Morgan came around the corner, hiking up his pants as he slowly made his way toward them.

  “Bob, you didn’t have to come out,” Ally said. “When I called, Shirley said you still weren’t feeling well.”

  “Ahh, I feel as good as I’m ever gonna feel.” He turned his gaunt face to Belle and removed his hat. “I’m sorry about all this, Miss Ashford. You let me know if there’s anything we can do for you.”

  “Thank you, Sheriff Morgan,” she said as she guzzled from her wineglass. “All I’d like is to find out who it belonged to and how it got there.”

  “Well, that’s what we’re gonna want to find out, too,” he said. “But I won’t say it’s gonna be easy. We don’t have DNA going back that far.”

  “She knows we’ll have the best investigators on the case,” Ally said. “If we can get a profile, we can run it through the system and see if we get any hits.”

  “Ahh, ‘at’s a long shot,” he said, “but if the ME wants to expend the resources, you may get lucky.” He coughed hard as he glanced out into the yard at Horace gathering soil samples at the burial site. “You can handle this?”

  Ally nodded. “Go get some rest, Boss,” she said warmly.

  “Well, okay then. I’ll check in with you later.” He turned to leave. “You phone the house if you need me. I’ll make sure Shirley wakes me the minute you call.”

  “Will do,” Ally said with a pat to his arm.

  He tipped his hat to Belle and ambled back toward the front of the house.

  “Jeez, he looks like he’s about to drive a Buick through the front of a Dunkin’ Donuts,” Belle said. “He’s not ready to retire?”

  Ally chortled, albeit reluctantly. “He’s very ready, and he practically has. His wife said he’s determined to finish out the year.”

  “He doesn’t sound very optimistic about solving this.”

  “He’s old-school. But he was right when he said it’s not gonna be easy.”

  “Should I give a sample or something? If it’s Judy’s, would our DNA be similar?”

  “Only if Judy’s mother was your father’s sister. Mitochondrial DNA is found in the mother’s bloodline.”

  “I’m not even gonna ask what all that means.” She sighed, her eyelids growing heavy as she dumped down another glass of wine.

  “Why don’t you get back to your work inside?” Ally said, sounding genuinely concerned. “It’s gonna get worse when Horace comes out of the woods with the bones in an evidence bag.”

  Belle gulped in disgust. “With all due respect, Deputy, do you honestly think I can just slip on my Home Depot apron and get back to wall-spackling after this?”

  “I’m sorry. I know you’re still shaken up, so I don’t think you should be here to watch him saunter out carrying a body bag.” Ally paused as Belle drained the last of the bottle’s contents into her glass. “Or drink yourself to death.”

  Belle looked at the empty wine bottle. “You make a solid point.” She stood on unsteady legs.

  “Let me help you inside.” Ally looped her arm under Belle’s. “Maybe a catnap wouldn’t be such a bad idea.”

  “I’m not an alcoholic, you know,” she said as she stumbled into Ally.

  “I know you’re not.” Ally threw her arm around her for more support as she led her inside. “It’s been a morning and a half.”

  “Right?” Belle shouted as she pitched more of her weight into Ally.

  “Let’s go into the living room so you can lie down.”

  “Splendid. Oh, but I need to make some business calls first.” She slurred her words as Ally poured her onto the sofa.

  “Why don’t you hold off on the calls until you’ve had a chance to rest?”

  “There’s no time,” she said, springing up from her prone position. “I have to call Ralph Jr. I have to make appointments for window estimates. I have to call Angelo and find out when he’s gonna finish the koi pond.”

  “You want to put a koi pond in an exhumed makeshift grave? Yuck!”

  “Well, sure. It sounds bad when you say it like that.” Her eyes closed as she fell back onto a decorative throw pillow.

  “G’night, Sleeping Beauty,” Ally said.

  Belle thought she felt warm lips on her forehead before the muffled sound of Ally’s shoes trailed off across the hardwood floor.

  ***

  Later in the afternoon, Belle woke with a dull throbbing in her head. She went into the kitchen, grabbed a bottle of cold water and a nectarine, and nibbled at the skin of the fruit as she gathered her wits.

  She was almost starting to feel normal until she heard the backup warning beeps from the medical examiner’s truck as it rolled backward down the slope of her yard toward the front. The yellow crime-scene tape around the would-be koi pond and at the perimeter of the woods turned the skin on the back of her arms bumpy.

  “This is gonna do wonders for the resale value,” she muttered.

  She again thought about the list of calls she still needed to make concerning the house, but first
she had to phone her father. After relaying to him the grisly details of her latest discovery, she went silent for a moment, trying to stave off a deluge of tears threatening to break free.

  “Isabelle,” he said, sounding worried. “Are you still there?”

  “Yeah.” She wiped her cheeks and nose on her bare arm.

  “I’m sorry, honey. If I’d had any idea about any of these things, I would’ve suggested we throw the house on the market as-is the minute I got the notice.”

  “There’s no way you could’ve known, Dad. That side of your family was exceptionally adept at keeping secrets.”

  “Why don’t you come home? Walk away from it, and put it up for sale right now.”

  “I can’t do that. I’d feel like I’m walking away from Judy and that baby.”

  “That’s not true at all. You can’t do a thing to help either of them. And it’s certainly not worth your sanity.”

  “I’m okay, Dad. Really. I’ve become acquainted with a policewoman, and she’s been so helpful. I didn’t mean to worry you.”

  “Belle, none of this is your responsibility. You can leave anytime you want, especially if you don’t feel safe.”

  Belle laughed mirthlessly. “What do I have to be afraid of except a few ghosts from the past?”

  Her father sighed into the phone. “I wish I could be more help, but I don’t know enough about that side of the family.”

  “It’s okay, Dad. You’ve helped a lot.” She wanted to reassure him it was settled, but she was already planning another visit to Craig Wheeler’s auto shop.

  Belle ended the call with her father feeling a little better. She had been thinking that getting justice for Judy was her responsibility. Add to that the possibility that an infant that might or might not have been murdered might or might not have been family?

  It was overwhelming.

  She decided to put all the family drama aside until tomorrow and direct her energy toward more work around the house.

  Still in her hand, Belle’s phone chimed and vibrated with a text from Ally. She smiled at the assortment of emojis Ally used, which included a skull and the bulging-eye face, after asking how she was doing.