Diana Anderson - Entering Southern Country 01 - Famous in a Small Town (11 page)

The M.E. and his crew headed back toward the road with the body bag. Hendrix and Porter followed them with the bagged evidence.

“You think this murder and the Neals’ are connected?” Justin asked.

“I’d bet on it. We need to keep a lid on this for now though.”

“What else you got on your mind?” Justin asked as he waved his hand to shoo away gnats swarming near his face.

“Right now, nothing. I’m just as baffled as you are.” He dropped his arms to his sides and headed back toward the road. “I need some coffee.”

Justin took quick steps to catch up with Cal’s long strides. “I’ll make us a pot when we get back to the office.”

Cal cut his eyes at Justin. “That’s all right. I think I’ll stop by the diner.”

* * *

“You had a visitor this morning.” Janie filled Cal’s cup to the brim. She replaced the coffee decanter, turned back toward him, and then placed her elbows on the counter. She rested her chin in her hands.

Cal took a sip and then lowered the cup. “Here? Who?”

“Not here. I went by your place to fetch your dirty laundry.”

“Mom, I told you that you don’t have to do my—”

“I do what I want to do. Now, you want to know who it was or not?”

“Go on.” He took a sip of his coffee and watched her over the rim of his cup.

“Callie—Mrs. Wallace, was snooping around on your front porch.”

 He lowered his cup. “Callie? Snooping?”

“Yup!”

“What was she looking for?”

“I think a spare key. She was looking under that flowerpot that’s under your spare bedroom window.”

“She say what she was there for?”

“No, but I think I took her by surprise. She left in a hurry. She was dressed to kill too.”

He brought his coffee cup to his lips and eyed her. “She’s always dressed to kill.”

Janie raised her brows at him. “Son, you apparently ain’t seen nothin’ yet. That woman was out to get more than access to your house. She’s after you. You might want to watch yourself.”

He took a sip and then set his cup down on the counter. “She hasn’t been after me in years.”

She looked off in thought for a moment and then looked back at him. “Her daughter’s back. As I recall, the last time Agnes was in town, Callie went after you. Sounds like Momma might be a tad bit jealous of her daughter.” She looked down at the counter. “Or maybe, she’s trying to keep you two apart for some reason.”

Cal and his mother made eye contact before she turned and grabbed the coffee decanter and topped off his coffee.

“She changed her name,” Cal said, watching his mother.

She set the decanter back on the hot plate and turned back toward him. “Which one? Her surname or—”

“Both. She calls herself Raven Sawyer now.”

A crease formed between her brows. “Raven Sawyer?” Her jaw dropped. She leaned on the counter. “She moved to New York City, right?”

He nodded. “Last I’d heard.”

Janie dropped her gaze to the counter. “Well, I’ll be.” She looked back at him.

“What?”

She straightened and held up her index finger. She walked a few feet away, reached under the counter, and grabbed her purse. She pulled out a paperback novel, dropped her purse back under the counter, and walked back.

“This explains a lot. I thought the town in this book sounded familiar and with the author’s name, it’s got to be her.” She held the book out to Cal.

He eyed the book and then his mother. “What?”

She looked at him under raised eyebrows. “You need to read this.”

He took the book and looked it over. He read the title. Shattered Lives. “It’s a romance novel.” He shook his head and held it out to her. “No thanks.”

She held her hand up. “Read the author’s name.”

His lips thinned. He shook his head and brought the book back for another look. “Rav …” He read the name, and flipped the book over, and then read the back jacket. After he’d read it, he opened the front cover and then flipped to the back. “There isn’t a picture of the author. And it says here that this is a work of fiction.”

“She didn’t dare put her photo on there. Now that I know who wrote it, it’s not fiction by any means.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Read it, and you’ll see why.”

“Why can’t you just tell me? I don’t read romance novels.”

Janie shook her head in frustration. “Son, it’s not just about romance. Look, you’re the sheriff, and if you want to know more about the Neals and what all went on in that trailer when she was growing up, you’ll read the book.”

“I thought you said this was a romance novel.”

Janie rolled her eyes.

29

Gaylene Peterson stood in the basement of the morgue with her arms wrapped around herself. From the moment she’d walked into the room, she hadn’t stopped shivering. The cold radiated off the pale green cinderblock walls as it did the concrete floor. One of the fluorescent lights overhead flickered and buzzed. The smell of formaldehyde was in the air.

She eyed the young attendant with curiosity and wondered how anyone could work in such a place. She noticed that he didn’t seem to be bothered by it—the smell, or the cold.

Strange
, she thought,
and he’s such a fine lookin’ young man
.

She’d guessed he was about her age, forty-one. His hair was cropped short and was as black as his horned rimmed glasses.

“Why y’all gotta keep it so gall darned cold in here for?” Her dark brown eyes scanned the covered body on the gurney. She shivered hard. “You could hang meat in here.” She reached for her ponytail, and grabbed two handfuls of auburn hair, and stretched it to tighten the grip of the elastic band. She folded her arms around her middle again and looked up at Cal. “Can we get this over with? I’m missin’ my soaps.”

Cal nodded to the attendant. The man pulled back the linen sheet just enough to reveal the head of the body.

Gaylene covered her mouth. “Oh my g … !” Her face turned pale. She closed her eyes and jerked her head away.

“Are you okay, Miss Peterson?” Cal asked.

She nodded. “I just never saw a dead body that wasn’t all made up, or … fixed. He’s gotta big hole in his forehead.”

“I’m sorry to have to put you thorough this, but we need an ID on this guy. Do you recognize him?” Cal asked.

She forced herself to turn back and have another look. She swallowed hard. “I guess he was shot in the head, huh?”

When nobody replied. She nodded. “That’s him.” She looked away.

“Are you positive?”

“Yes, but he’s not so handsome anymore. It’s hard to believe by lookin’ at him now that he ever was.” She shivered hard again. “Can I go now?” She covered her mouth and then bent at the waist. “Oh, no.”

Cal reached to steady her. The attendant grabbed a nearby waste can and slid it in front of her.

When she had emptied her stomach, she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “That is so embarrassin’.”

“Don’t think a thing about it, Miss Peterson. You’re not the first person,” Cal said.

She straightened up and took a deep breath. The smell of formaldehyde and other chemicals caused her stomach to roll over again.

“Are you are okay?” Cal asked.

She nodded.

“Is this the man that was signed in at the Inn?” he asked again.

“Yes, that’s Jorge Ramirez. Well, that’s what his signature said anyways. He’s the one who always paid the bill. Paid in cash.”

“Listen, Gaylene, I need you to keep quiet about this.”

She gave him a puzzled look. “I don’t understand.”

He ran a hand over his chin and looked away. “We ask anyone who ID’s a body to not say anything until after we can locate the next of kin.”

She nodded. “Sure. No problem.”

Even a white lie, left a bad taste in Cal’s mouth, but he felt in his gut that the Neals’ murders were connected to the Ramirez murder.

* * *

Cal sat at his desk and read over the autopsy report of Virgil and Wanda. He shook his head. He couldn’t understand how anyone could be so cold and brutal. Since he’d been in law enforcement, he’d not seen anything like it. They had been beaten, and stabbed multiple times, and then the bullets ended their torment.

What did Jorge Ramirez have to do with all of this?
He had to be connected somehow, although his time of death was at least eighteen hours before the Neals’. Two million dollars buried under their trailer.
Where did it come from?
Sometimes it was best to just sit back and watch to see who knows anything. Whoever the money belonged to, can’t keep quiet forever. That’s a lot of money to lose.
They’re bound to be biting at the bit right about now.

He tossed the reports down on his desk and picked up the telephone receiver. He eyed the number he’d jotted down days ago on a notepad and punched in the numbers. After three rings the housekeeper answered.

“Maggie, this is Sheriff Rayburn. I need to speak with Ag …” he eyed the paperback on his desk, “Raven Sawyer, please.”

“Hold on, and I’ll see if she’s here.”

He drummed his fingers on the desk as he waited.

“Hello?” Raven’s voice caught him by surprise. He’d thought she wouldn’t take the call.

“Uh, Raven, this is Cal. I called to let you know the bodies are being released first thing in the morning.”

“So you’ve gotten the autopsy report?”

“Yes.”

“What was the cause of death?”

He hesitated. “They’d been shot.”

“You needed an autopsy report for that? I’d think that would be obvious.”

“Well, there’s more to it than just that, I’m afraid.”

“What do you mean?”

“I know you’re anxious to make funeral arrangements.”

“Yes, of course.”

“Well, you might want to consider a closed casket service for both of them.”

“Oh?”

“I’m sorry, but I’d rather not spell it out for you.”

She was quiet a moment and then said, “Thank you, Cal.”

“All you need to do is get the funeral director to have someone pick up the bodies from the morgue.”

There was silence on the other end of the line.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes, thank you for calling.”

“Raven?”

“Yes.”

“I’m very sorry about your father.”

“Thank you.”

He heard a click at the other end. He hung up the receiver. He grabbed his hat off his desk, scooted his chair back, stood, and walked toward the door. Half way across the room, he stopped, turned back, and grabbed the paperback off his desk, and then left his office.

30

The next morning Raven stood in the foyer and fished around in her purse for her car keys.

“Where are you going?” Callie stopped at the foot of the stairs and eyed Raven.

“To make funeral arrangements.” Raven dug deeper in her purse.

“I hope you don’t think I’m going to help pay for your daddy’s and his wife’s funeral.”

Raven cut her eyes at Callie. “No, I don’t expect anything from you.”

Callie squinted at Raven. “You know I’ve always been a good mother to you. I gave up so much when you were born.”

“Like what?” Raven latched onto her keys.

Callie stiffened her shoulders. “My career for one.”

“I don’t recall you ever mentioning having a career.” She placed her purse strap over her shoulder.

Callie crossed her arms over her chest. “That’s because I’d given it up before you were born.”

“What career?”

Callie’s eyes widened, and then she looked away. After a moment, she looked back at her. “I was a lead singer in a band.”

“And what band was that?”

“What? You don’t believe me?”

Raven gave her head a slow shake. She opened the door.

“Wait!” Callie hurried across the way and stopped at the door.

Raven turned and looked at her.

“I’ve noticed you’ve been on your cell phone and making a lot of phone calls since you’ve been here. Who’ve you been calling?”

Raven eyed her a moment. “Nobody you know.”

“Really?”

“Really, Mother.”

“Where’s the dog?”

“Ted took him for a walk. Said he’d watch him for me.”

“Ted’s not working today?”

“Apparently not.” Raven walked on out to her car and got inside. She inserted the key, started it, and drove the circle drive in front of the house, and then down the driveway.

Momma has lied so much, she doesn’t remember her lies anymore. Who knows what the truth is when she speaks?

The sun was bright and not a cloud in the sky to cool off the day. She thanked God for the air-conditioning every time she thought about it. When she lived with Virgil and Callie, the trailer had been hot in the summer. If it hadn’t been for the shade trees nearby, they would have burnt up on some days. The air-conditioner unit was closer to the master bedroom. Her bedroom had been at the opposite end of the trailer, and it stayed hot in the summer and cold in the winter.

Raven’s cell phone chirped. She grabbed it out of her purse and put it to her ear.

“Hello?”

“Where are you?” Rebecca asked.

“Oh, Becca, I’m so sorry I haven’t called you.”

“Don’t worry about it. I know things must be crazy there. How are you?”

“I’m okay. Well, as okay as I can be, considering.”

“I’m so sorry. How did the funeral go?”

“I’m on the way now to make those arrangements.”

There was silence at the other end.

“Becca? Are you still there?”

“Uh, yes. I’m just surprised that they’d keep a body that long. I guess they do things differently in the south.”

Raven sighed. “I should have called and told you what was going on. They had to do autopsies and have just released the bodies for burial.”

“Oh! Wait, did you say bodies?”

“Yes. My father had remarried.”

“But why autopsies? What happened?”

“They were murdered.”

“Oh my! I’m so sorry, Raven.”

“Thanks. I’ll call you as soon as I’m on my way home. How’s Tory? Did she ever get over the stomach bug?”