Fallout (Joshua Stokes Mysteries Book 2) (19 page)

On the five-mile long drive to the courthouse, both were silent.

Joshua wished he had just driven on by himself that morning and had not stopped by his cabin nor asked Emma to accompany him. He felt he could have accomplished more without all the distractions and detours.

Joshua was discovering that he did not know Emma as well as he had thought he did. She certainly had some issues that he was not privy too nor wished to be. The fact that he had slept with her was eating at his morality.

Joshua had never thought of himself as being overly virtuous, and even though it was not intentional nor of his own doing, he’d had sex with a nineteen-year-old unstable victim of no telling what type of depravity and violence. It was wrong no matter how you looked at it.

He wanted to kick himself in the ass for even making the deal with her to clean the cabin in the first place. If he was not so kindhearted, he might have said no to her staying there while cleaning it. Then she would not have moved in with him as she did. There was no one to blame but himself for trying to be kind to someone.

His intentions were not fallacious, never had been. His only purpose from the beginning was to help Emma and to get his cabin cleaned. Hook had warned him; he just wished the warning had come before he let her move in.

Joshua was beginning to feel the walls close in around him. What Emma needed was not something he could provide.

All he needed to do now was to figure out how to extricate himself from their unplanned relationship…

The records room at the old courthouse in Citronelle, Alabama was dusty and poorly lit. It reminded Joshua of the evidence room at the courthouse in Mobile. He had searched though everything he could find from the year G. W. Dixon had supposedly hung himself, looking for information; however, the files contained very little.

A copy of the coroner’s report listed suicide as the cause of death. He had found nothing at all concerning G. W. Dixon’s wife. Maybe there was never a report filed on her disappearance…

A song playing softly on a radio from somewhere inside the courthouse drifted through the walls to where he was. Neil Young’s tenor voice sang out about an ‘old man,’ wanting him to take a look at his life. Joshua thought of his grandfather. “What do I do now Papa,” he asked quietly.

“You dust yourself off, Hoss, and start again.” He knew that was what his grandfather would say, and he knew his grandfather was right, but Joshua was just plain tired. He was mentally and physically exhausted.

Over the last few weeks, his brain had been bombarded with evidence and information, both circumstantial and hard facts. It was more than he could mentally comprehend at that moment. He wished he could just chuck it all and forget about it, but he couldn’t. He knew it was going to drive him crazy if he even tried.

He walked to the property records room and asked the woman at the desk if he could look at the property records of the old Rising Sun Funeral Home. She informed him that the property was no longer commercial property. It had reverted to a residential status when G. W. Dixon purchased it as his personal residence in 1965. She told him to follow her and then led him to the Plat Room. She found the correct property book and opened it to the Dixon plat. Several maps of the property had been drawn up since the land was first settled. The records dated back to the late 1840’s when Ethan Lee, who as far as Joshua could tell, was the first owner of the property.

The oldest map was hand drawn and showed the residence in correlation to the river and the main road from Mobile. It even had the tunnels drawn to the barn and the river. As Joshua examined the map, he saw that there was another residence about a half a mile from the main house. Between that residence and the main house, was an area near the river that had several rows of slave cabins. Joshua was surprised by the amount of detail the map contained.

“Are you finding what you need?” the woman’s voice surprised him.

“Yes, ma’am, I did not know the map or the list of owners would be so detailed.

“We try to keep our records up to date and as accurate as possible.” she smiled.

“Do y’all allow for copies to be taken out of the room?” Joshua asked.

“We can make copies for you. They’re a dollar a sheet though.”

“That’s fine. Please make me a copy of this oldest plat and a copy of the list of owners. It will help in my research.”

“Are you doing research on your family tree?” she asked politely. Her question surprised Joshua. He reckoned that he automatically assumed that everyone knew who he was and what he was. If she did not know he was the Sheriff of Mobile County, it did not matter to him. He answered, “Yes 'm” just to avoid more questioning.

“You do know that in each courthouse we file records according to the surname don’t you?”

“No, ma’am, I did not know that,” Joshua responded.

“Yes, sir. If you wanted to search one particular surname, say Dixon or Lee, you can look through the records on that name along with the given name and see exactly where they owned property. Owned, is the keyword,” she said. “As you probably know, not everyone owns the property they live on; many people rent their homes.”

“That is good to know. It will help a lot when I go to Mobile.”

“We have a local historian here in Citronelle. He might be able to fill in the gaps for you. If you’d like, I can give you his phone number and address.”

“Yes, ma’am, that would be good to have,” Joshua smiled politely and waited while she wrote the name and number on a sheet of paper and handed it to him.

“Give Mr. Scarborough a call. He knows everything there is to know about Citronelle and its inhabitants. He took over where his grandfather left off with keeping records on everyone and everything. Wait right here and I will make you copies of these.”

Joshua waited and when she returned with the copies he said, “Thank you for your help. I appreciate it very much.” He left the plat room and went outside to his patrol car. He had left Emma there to wait when he went inside, but she was no longer there.

Now where in the hell did she run off to, he wondered as he got in and lit a cigarette. As he sat there smoking, he looked over the names on the list of property owners. He could have been surprised when he read them, but he wasn’t.

It had never even crossed his mind that Early Dixon would own two separate mortuaries in two different states, but it really did not surprise him, nor did it surprise him that G. W. Dixon purchased the land and home from his older brother Early Dixon, who had owned and run the Rising Sun Funeral Home.

He determined that he needed to go down to the courthouse in Mobile as soon as possible and search through the real estate property records. He wanted to see if Early Dixon owned any other land there.

Joshua had just finished his cigarette when he saw Emma leisurely strolling down the sidewalk toward his car. When she opened the door and got in, he asked where she had run off to. She informed him that she had to pee so she had walked to the filling station down the street to use the bathroom.

“You ain’t mad at me are you?” she asked.

“No,” he replied. “I just wondered where you went. I have another place I need to go before we head back.” Emma nodded her head but did not speak.

Joshua drove to the nearest phone booth and called the number for Mr. Scarborough. He decided to be straightforward with him and told him who he was and that he hoped he would be able to tell him about the history of the Rising Sun Funeral Home and its former owner, Early Dixon. He sensed a pause on the other end of the line as Scarborough hesitated before answering.

Scarborough told Joshua that it would be better if they talked in person. He said that he liked to look whomever he was talking to in the eye. He told Joshua to come on over. Scarborough lived just around the corner from the courthouse. Naturally, he lived in one of the old historic homes on Church Street.

The man who answered the door introduced himself as Winston Scarborough. He did not look like Joshua thought he would. He was old, gray, and wrinkled. At one time, he probably stood well over six feet tall, but now bent forward so badly that if you were to turn him sideways he would appear to be seated.

“I apologize for my appearance, Sheriff. Too many years bent over cotton rows as a boy, I reckon. You folks come on in and have a seat,” the older man said. His stooped, bent back was probably even with Joshua’s waist and he looked upward to speak. He put Joshua in mind of a turtle. “My father worked me just as hard, if not harder, than he worked anyone else on the farm. He didn’t take any pity on me because I had a weak back.” Scarborough said as he made his way to the sofa and sat down. “My father said that a weak back showed you were weak of character. I spent my life trying to prove him wrong. I was always in dissention with my father about
everything
, and not just his opinion of me. Not everyone agreed with him, which helped me to overcome his perpetual assassination of my distinctive qualities.

I might not have been strong of back; however, I
was
strong of mind, still am,” he chuckled. “The good Lord blessed me with the ability to remember everything I see, read, or hear, the same as my grandfather Godwin did. I think that was why my old man hated me so much, because I reminded him of his father in law. They never did see eye to eye.” Although Scarborough was old, his voice was strong and steady. Joshua decided immediately that he liked Winston Scarborough. An elderly black woman brought a tray that held a carafe, several coffee cups, cream, sugar, spoons, and small cakes.

“Leave it, Thelma,” Scarborough said, and then told Joshua, “Its not tea - I detest hot tea! I do like my afternoon coffee though. Would you like a cup, Sheriff?”

“Yes, I believe I would,” Joshua responded.

“How about you young lady, are you old enough to drink coffee?” he asked Emma. Emma smiled charmingly at the older man and said, “Yes sir, I am, but I’d better not. It’s a long way home and the sheriff here gets perturbed when I need to go to the bathroom.” Winston Scarborough glanced at Joshua and then chuckled to himself. Joshua was thinking ‘there is that ‘home’ word again, coming out of Emma’s mouth.’

“Oh to be young again,” he said, with a chuckle. “What I wouldn’t give.”

“You’re not old, Mister Scarborough” Emma cooed, sweetly “You’re just well seasoned, that’s all,” Emma responded, and then asked, “What would you give, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Joshua almost choked on his coffee. “Emma!” he spat her name grumpily.

“It’s quite alright, Sheriff. I admire honesty and frankness. The world needs a lot more of it. Then there would not be so many secrets in the world. Speaking of which, you came here to learn of Early Dixon and the Rising Sun Funeral Home.”

“Yes, I did.” Joshua replied.

“As you know, Early Dixon owned the Rising Sun Funeral Parlor along with the one he owned over in Greene County, Mississippi. At one time, he tried to open one down in Mobile, back in the early forties, 1943 to be exact. However, the directors of the
Big Three
down there got together and put him out of business before he even got started. You’re aware of the reason he went to prison aren’t you?”

Joshua nodded.

“I figured as much. I am sure that was not the first time such occurred. It ran in the family, you know. The Dixons originally lived here before most of them relocated to Mississippi. And the reason they relocated was because of such as that and the stigma that goes along with it.”

Joshua figured Scarborough was choosing his words in order to keep from speaking of such depravity in front of Emma.

“I remember when your mother disappeared,” Scarborough said quietly.

His words caught Joshua off guard. He narrowed his eyes at Scarborough, who continued speaking as if Joshua’s stare did not bother him at all.

“She was not the only woman to disappear without a trace during the elder Dixon’s reign.

I told them back then that he had something to do with those women disappearing, but back then, they would not give me the time of day. I was just the deformed son of a mean-spirited dirt farmer named Charles Scarborough.

My father was neither well liked nor respected around here because of his ill temper. He butted heads with the local authorities on many occasions. Run moonshine when farming did not pay the bills, stole chickens and cows from his neighbors. Whatever it took to survive the depression, he done it and never give it a second thought.

I was a grown man before I knew he was a Klansman.

My father died a hard death and I would imagine that he is roasting in Hell right alongside the dead Dixons. What he did was not much better than what the Dixons did. That’s why I understood what G. W. did when he hung himself. It was the only way he knew to escape. Hell, when I was a youngster, I contemplated killing myself too, but then I decided I would outlive them all and live to tell their secrets.”

“May I be excused?” Emma asked when Scarborough stopped to pour his coffee.

“Don’t wander too far,” Joshua warned as she headed toward the front door. “I’m sorry,” he apologized to Mr. Scarborough, “She’s young and easily bored.”

“I know how these young folks are, Sheriff, you don’t have to apologize. However, I am glad she is gone. Now I can tell you the brunt of what I know without having to mince words. Those Dixons were a
filthy
lot, from the great-grandfather down to those boys you had to kill a few weeks back.

The great-grandfather and grandfather had sex with farm animals before they became depraved enough to start kidnapping women to keep as sex slaves. Even that did not satisfy some of them, Early Dixon being the sickest of them all in my opinion. As far as I know, he was the only one that suffered from necrophilia.

Back in the forties, I suspected them as soon as I heard that women had started disappearing. I read the newspaper every day, Sheriff, and I can tell you that several times a year, from 1937 to 1956, a woman has disappeared. Then, there was a dry spell for about sixteen years before those boys you killed took up where their grandfather and Early left off. Now, I know that not every woman who has gone missing was a victim of theirs, however, I feel that most of them were.”

“You might be right.”

“There’s no might be to it. I know I am right. I think the old man stopped when he could no longer perform sexually. According to my father-who spoke bluntly about everything, old G. W. claimed the reason he had sex with his farm animals was because his pecker was too big; his wife did not like having sex with him so that was his only recourse. I don’t know why Early Dixon stopped; maybe because he developed a lust for dead flesh, I don’t know for sure, just guessing. And then, those boys, I don’t know how they got started… from what I know, their father was not like his father and brother.”