Leftover Dead (22 page)

Wanda Nell was greatly touched by the affection and admiration in the policeman’s voice. “Somehow I don’t have any trouble believing that,” she said.

“This is my wife,” Jack said. “Wanda Nell Pemberton.”

“How do you do, ma’am?” King turned his attention back to Miss Lyda. “Now, Miss Lyda, I sure hate to put you through all this, but I do need to ask you some questions.”

“Of course, Rufus,” she said. “I’m ready. Wanda Nell has been looking after me, and I’m feeling much stronger.”

“Thank you. I’d rather talk to Miss Lyda alone. If y’all don’t mind, I’ll ask you to wait in another room.”

“Of course,” Jack said. Wanda Nell rose from her chair. “We’ll be in our bedroom.”

As they walked out of the room, King began. “Now tell me please, Miss Lyda, everything you saw or heard.”

Back in their room, Wanda Nell sat down on the edge of the bed. “Are you okay, honey?”

Jack sat down beside her and pulled her close. She rested her head against his shoulder. “I hope I never have to see something like that again,” he said.

“I’m sorry you had to. This sure is something I wouldn’t have expected.”

“Me either, though I guess we really shouldn’t be surprised, after our visit. Howell saw a chance to blackmail somebody, and it went wrong.”

“You thought he was lying about knowing who his wife worked for in Tullahoma,” Wanda Nell said. “This proves it. Or that he knew who Jenna Rae’s real father was.”

“Something like that,” Jack agreed. “He obviously called someone who was involved in the situation, and that person came rushing down here to make sure he stayed quiet about what he knew.”

“And now we’ll never know what he could have told us.”

“Unless the police find something when they search his house. And I’m betting whoever killed him tried to make sure they wouldn’t find anything.”

“The house was such a mess, how would the killer be able to go through everything in the short time Miss Lyda says he was there?”

“You’ve got a point,” Jack said. “We’ll just have to hope the police will be able to find something. Anything.”

Wanda Nell was struck by a terrible thought. “What if they think one of us did it?”

“They may very well think that,” Jack said, shrugging. “I couldn’t really blame them. After all, the coincidence is a bit much. We show up in Hattiesburg looking for this man, and in less than twenty-four hours, he’s dead.” He shook his head. “Miss Lyda will be able to give us an alibi. She ought to be a pretty credible witness, and King obviously has a great deal of respect for her.”

“Thank goodness,” Wanda Nell said.

They sat in silence for a while longer, waiting for a summons from King.

A knock came at the door at last, and Jack got up to answer it. King stood in the hall outside. “Would y’all mind coming into the kitchen with me?” He waited for Wanda Nell and Jack to leave the room and then followed them back to the kitchen.

Miss Lyda was still sitting in her chair. King indicated that Wanda Nell and Jack should sit down, and he took the remaining chair at the table.

“Now, according to Miss Lyda, you two are in the clear. Not that I don’t believe her account of what she saw, you understand, but until I know more about the time of death, I’m keeping my options open.”

“Certainly, officer,” Jack said. “We can understand that. What do you want to know?”

“Why did you come here in the first place? What was your business with Howell?”

Jack began to explain, trying to give King a condensed version of the story. King wasn’t interested in that, insisting on knowing everything. Jack began again, giving every detail of what he and Wanda Nell had done thus far. Wanda Nell chipped in occasionally, and King would nod at her.

At some point Miss Lyda got up and made a fresh pot of coffee. King accepted a cup with a quick nod of thanks, never taking his eyes off Jack. Wanda Nell sipped gratefully at hers and wished she didn’t feel so hungry. She was surprised she could even feel hungry after what had happened, but she was. No doubt Jack and Miss Lyda were as well.

It took them nearly half an hour to share all the details with King. When Jack had finished, King sat staring at him for a full minute.

“That’s a pretty complicated story you got there. Based on all that, I reckon you’re thinking that the killer was somebody from Tullahoma—or at least connected to Tullahoma—who was involved in the murder of Howell’s daughter thirty-one years ago.”

“Adopted daughter,” Miss Lyda said.

“Yes, ma’am,” King responded with a slight smile. “His adopted daughter. Now, Miss Lyda has told me a lot about Howell and his habits. Considering the condition of that house, it’s going to take us a while to go through everything, looking for some kind of evidence to tie this thing to someone in Tullahoma.”

“Do we need to stay in Hattiesburg for a while?” Jack asked. “We can, if you need us to, but we don’t want to impose too much on Miss Lyda.”

Miss Lyda started to protest, but King shook his head. “I’ve already had a talk with the sheriff in Tullahoma.” He looked at Jack. “He corroborated what you told me earlier, Mr. Pemberton. He vouches for you, so I’m going to say it’s okay for you to go back home. I’d rather you stay over one more night, though, just in case.”

“And you will stay here with me,” Miss Lyda said, her voice firm. “Don’t you think of going anywhere else.”

“Thank you, Miss Lyda.” Wanda Nell gave a smile of gratitude. “We surely do appreciate it.”

King rose. “Thank you, too, Miss Lyda.” He nodded at Wanda Nell and Jack. “I might be back a little later with more questions.”

“Of course,” Jack said, rising from his chair. “I’ll see you out.” The two men left the kitchen, and Miss Lyda sighed.

“What a terrible situation. I’m embarrassed to admit it, but I’m more than a bit peckish. What about you, Wanda Nell?”

“I am, too. I know it’s probably bad of me to be thinking of food at a time like this, but I was afraid my stomach was going to start growling any minute.”

“Then we should definitely do something about that,” Miss Lyda said. “I’m sure Jack must be hungry, too, though after what the poor boy has had to see, he might not want to eat.” She shook her head.

“I know.” Wanda Nell had been worrying about that very thing. Jack might have nightmares, and she wouldn’t be surprised. It had sounded pretty grisly, even from the minimal details he had shared.

Miss Lyda stood. “Let’s get cooking, then.”

“I’ll be happy to do the cooking,” Wanda Nell said.

“Ordinarily I would insist on doing it myself,” Miss Lyda replied with a sweet smile. “But I do get tired of my own cooking. So if you wouldn’t mind, dear, I will take you up on your offer.”

Jack came back a couple of minutes later to find his wife busy at the stove. He insisted on helping, and while they worked, they talked about other things. They all needed to think of something else for a while, and when the food was ready, they all ate. Jack ate less than usual, but Wanda Nell didn’t say anything. She was just glad he felt like eating something. He would need it as the day went on.

They had finished breakfast, but were still sitting at the kitchen table, when a knock sounded at the front door. Jack went to answer it and came back with Rufus King.

King glanced at the table—wistfully, Wanda Nell thought—but then focused his attention on Miss Lyda.

“Please sit down, Rufus,” she said before he could speak.

“Yes, ma’am.” He took a seat across the table from her.

“How about some coffee?” Miss Lyda asked.

“Thank you, but I’m fine,” King said with a brief smile. “Now, Miss Lyda, I have a few more questions I’m hoping you can answer. First, do you have any idea what kind of income the deceased had?”

Miss Lyda thought for a moment, her head cocked to one side. “Well, I know he received Social Security, but I doubt it was much, considering the kind of job he had. You don’t make much being a janitor at a funeral home, I reckon.” She paused. “I suppose his brother, and after he died, his nephew, might have given him money from time to time, maybe a pension. But I wouldn’t think it was much. You saw how he lived.”

King nodded. “That’s exactly it. Some things just don’t add up.” He stared hard at Jack. “Now, I’m going to tell you something, and I don’t want it going any further, understand?”

Jack nodded.

King looked at Miss Lyda again. “My men have been going over the place, and we found a couple drawers in the kitchen full of receipts of all kinds and bank statements. You’re right about his Social Security. It wasn’t very much. That was the only deposit we saw in the statements.” He paused for a moment. “According to the receipts, though, he was spending hundreds of dollars a month on beer and alcohol. By the time you add up his utilities and what he was spending on food and medicine, he was spending way over his Social Security check every month.”

“So he was getting money from somewhere every month,” Jack said. “The question is, was he blackmailing someone?”

“I suppose his nephew could have been giving him money every month,” Miss Lyda said. “But it surely wouldn’t have been enough for him to spend that much on liquor. His nephew’s a teetotaler, that I do know.”

“He was probably blackmailing whoever killed him,” Wanda Nell added. “Maybe the person who killed Jenna Rae thirty-one years ago.”

“Wanda Nell and I were talking about this earlier,” Jack said. “We figure that Howell had been getting money from someone for years. But then we show up, asking questions, and he gets the idea that what he knows is worth a lot more money.”

“And so he calls the person who’s been paying him all this time, and he comes down and eliminates Howell,” King said, continuing the train of thought.

Jack nodded. “Doesn’t that sound reasonable?”

“It does,” King replied. He stared at Wanda Nell and Jack for a moment, his expression serious. “Another thing I’m wondering is whether Howell had time to tell the killer about you two. The killer would certainly want to know exactly why Howell was wanting more money all of a sudden.”

Jack turned to Wanda Nell in dismay. “I hadn’t thought about that. We’re going to have to be pretty careful when we get home.” He turned back to King. “I did give Howell a note with my name and phone numbers on it, when I went back to talk to him the second time. I don’t suppose you’ve found that piece of paper anywhere?”

“Not that I recall, but I’ll be sure to tell them to look for it. Even if it does turn up next door, I think it’s my duty to warn you that you might be in danger anyway. We have no way of knowing what Howell told the killer, or what the killer could have figured out from your car being on the street in front of this house.”

Wanda Nell shuddered. “Maybe he was in too much of a hurry to notice our car. But what if he’d tried to break in here, looking for us?”

“He probably wanted to get in and out of here as quickly as he could, and he might have figured you were less of a threat than Howell,” King said. “But we’re just guessing at this point. When you do get home, though, I think you need to be on the lookout for anything strange.”

“We certainly will,” Jack said. “I hate to say it, but both of us have been in this position before.” He shrugged. “One thing this whole situation tells me, though, is that we must be on the right track. Otherwise, why would Howell have been killed?”

“And were we responsible for getting him killed?” Wanda Nell asked, looking at Jack. He nodded in agreement. “That really bothers me.”

“I can understand that,” King said. “But you didn’t force Howell to make the choices he made. It was his responsibility, not yours.”

“Exactly, Rufus.” Miss Lyda’s tone was emphatic.

“Don’t you two go blaming yourselves for this. The seeds of this tragedy were sown long ago. I think it’s terrible that Mr. Howell has died the way he did, but I’m convinced good will come of it yet. You’re going to find out who murdered that beautiful child all those years ago, and that person will have to face up to it.”

“Thank you, Miss Lyda,” Wanda Nell said, clasping the little woman’s hand in hers.

“ ‘Pride goeth before destruction, and an haughty spirit before a fall,’ ” Miss Lyda quoted. “That’s what the Good Book tells us. Proverbs, chapter 16, verse 18. But it might as well say ‘stupidity’ instead of ‘pride.’ Howell was a stupid, venal man, and he brought destruction upon himself.”

“Exactly, Miss Lyda,” King said. Glancing at his watch, he rose from his seat. “Y’all will have to excuse me. I’ve got to go see Mr. Howell’s grandnephew. I need to talk to the family, and apparently the nephew is away on business.” He stared hard at Jack. “I may be back with more questions later, and I’ll expect to find you here until tomorrow morning.”

“We’ll be here,” Jack promised. King nodded and headed for the door.

Wanda Nell muttered “Excuse me” and followed him. She caught up with him in the hallway. “Mr. King,” she said.

He stopped and turned to face her. “Yes, ma’am?”

“My husband and I won’t leave until you tell us it’s okay, but I was wondering if it would be okay for one of us to leave the house for a little while.”

“To do what?”

Wanda Nell glanced over her shoulder before replying. “Well, I got to noticing this morning that Miss Lyda doesn’t have a lot of food on hand, and I thought maybe Jack or I could go to the grocery store. We don’t want to be a burden on her, but I’m afraid we will be.”

King smiled briefly. “That’s very kind of you. Miss Lyda has her pride, and she would never say a thing to you about it. But I’m sure she’d be grateful to you for thinking of it, and I know you’ll do it in a way that won’t embarrass her.”

“Thank you,” Wanda Nell said. “So it’s okay if Jack or I go to the grocery store.”

“I’ll let my men know,” King promised.

Wanda Nell went back to the kitchen feeling better. Having seen the contents of their hostess’s refrigerator and her pantry, she had been concerned about the effect their continued presence would have on Miss Lyda’s budget. It might be that Miss Lyda simply didn’t keep much food on hand because she didn’t eat a lot, but just in case, Wanda Nell didn’t want to cause their hostess any hardship.