Roots of Murder (22 page)

He was again slow in answering. “Well, Boyce Jenkins is handling that. I'll tell him to give you a call and let you know what's going on.” He hurried on, as if making sure that Nell didn't get a chance to ask another question. “Now, I'm calling about all the riled citizens who are calling up the police station worryin' about murders and the like since you ran that story. Seems to me that some old bones in the woods are causing a lot of fuss. Seems to me you ought to be just a little worried about causing this kind of stir.”

“Chief Brown, I can't understand why anyone would get upset about three young people shackled, brutally murdered, and dumped in an unmarked grave. No matter what the forensic evidence, they are, as you've pointed out, just old bones in the woods.” Nell almost quoted him, calling them “nigger bones,” but she wasn't sure she could get the vile word out in a properly caustic fashion.

Chief Brown was again silent, only his heavy breathing on the phone. He evidently wasn't sure whether Nell was being sarcastic or agreeing with him. It seemed to finally occur to him that she had put it on the front page of the paper. “I got to keep peace in this here town, so I got to step in when I see people riling up some people.

“And just who are the ‘some people'? The mayor has already been here. Who else could it be?”

“Why, just the citizens of the town. Old ladies worried about killers creeping in the middle of the night. Mothers worried about their children, letting them play in the yard …”

“Right, all the orphans, widows, puppies, and kittens,” Nell cut in. “Are you threatening me, Chief Brown? Suggesting I not report the facts? Hide a few murders because they're just ‘nigger bones'?” This time she did get it out, the anger rising in her voice. The man was a fool. She had to wonder if he was a dangerous fool. First he blew off the assault on her son, then was clumsily trying to bully her. Nell decided it was time to do some bullying of her own. “I've already sent the story to colleagues at NPR and the
New York Times
. This one is going national, Chief Brown. Do you want CNN and all the networks camped outside your door? Want me to pass on some of your enlightened comments? Drop a few hints about the chief of police trying to stymie the investigation? Tell them my
twelve-year
-old son was assaulted and you couldn't bother to look into it? It's my paper breaking the story, they'll all come to me and I'll sic them on you like young hounds on an old fox. Forget taking it easy on your way out the door, forget a peaceful retirement. After the media smears you across this town, you won't be able to get a
part-time
job at the bait shop, let alone the casino security job you're looking for.”

“You can't do that,” he sputtered.

“Want to find out? One email and we can see just how hard the media will come after you.”

“Dammit,” he muttered, then said, “I don't need that.”

“Fine. Tell Boyce Jenkins to find the men who assaulted my son. Stay the fuck out of my reporting and if you've got an opinion, you're welcome to write a letter to the editor. Do we have an understanding, Chief Brown?” Nell almost spat out his name.

He was again silent for a moment, the only telltale sign the heavier breathing coming from the phone, then he said quietly, almost as if he didn't want anyone to overhear, “Look, this wasn't my idea and I didn't have anything to do with it. I just don't want no trouble.”

“Have anything to do with what?” Nell asked.

“Whatever upset 'em. I just don't know.”

“What do you know?”

But again there was silence, and this time in the background, Nell could hear other voices. Finally he came back and said in his usual voice, “I'll have Boyce get back to you as soon as he gets in. I think he's made some progress on things. We just don't want trouble here in town. I don't want any trouble.” With that, he put the phone down.

Nell was left wondering how seriously to take his threat. She couldn't call it anything else. She may have used it, but the truth was she couldn't see the story fading out. Nell could walk away, stick to reporting high school football scores, but she doubted she could kill this story. And if it's going to come out, I might as well get the credit because I'll certainly get the blame, she decided.

That left one final phone call. Her
mother-in
-law rarely called her, almost never when Thom had been alive; they always communicated through him. Nell would have to finesse Saturday night, getting Mrs. Thomas, Sr. to agree to take Josh and Lizzie without actually admitting where she would be going.

“Hello, Nell, glad you could finally call me back,” was Mrs. Thomas, Sr.'s greeting. “You certainly were the topic of conversation at my bridge club. I don't think the
Pelican Bay Crier
ever had real human bones on the front page before.”

“I'm always glad to enliven your bridge club. I'll be happy to show you the pictures that I didn't print.”

Nell detected as much of a sigh as Mrs. Thomas's politeness would allow. “Is it really murder, do you think? How can they tell after it's been so long?”

Nell did know her
mother-in
-law well enough to know she was not asking for an explanation of forensics. She wanted murder and mayhem to all be a mistake that could be taken away with just a closer examination. “Given all the evidence, it couldn't be anything but murder.”

“And if it couldn't be anything save murder, you couldn't do anything but report it.”

“Are you suggesting the paper ignore this story?”

“Nothing of the sort, but to play a decades old murder on the front page? Is that necessary?”

“It's a big story,” Nell said, suddenly wondering if her
mother-in
-law was in on it, too. Pelican Bay's prominent families—could that include the McGraws? She reminded herself it was totally in character for Mrs. Thomas, Sr. to comment on the front page, particularly a page that upset her bridge club. Nell felt a trickle of anxiety as she considered it might be something more.

But Mrs. Thomas let it go, saying, “I suppose so, but if you're going to run any more stories like this please give me some warning so I'm not unfolding the paper in front of who knows whom.”

“I'll do my best,” was all Nell conceded. At least I didn't get into my censorship and free press speech. Mrs. Thomas was good at bringing out the pontificator in Nell.

“Now, when am I going to see my grandchildren again?” Mrs. Thomas launched into what Nell suspected was her real reason for the call. “This is some lovely fall weather we're having and it would be enjoyable to do some strolling with them.”

Sometimes fate was kind. Aaron would have to do without Lizzie stuffing envelopes. “Actually, I was going to see if you could keep them for part of the weekend. It's going to be a busy one, with the elections coming up. We're trying to cover all the candidates, plus some
follow-up
on the murders.”

“Well, the last thing I want them to be doing is digging around in the woods for some old bones,” Mrs. Thomas said with some acerbity, letting Nell know her activities had been observed—and reported on. “Perhaps a nice little trip over to Ocean Springs, we can take in the Walter Anderson Museum and stroll the downtown.”

“That would be quite educational for them,” Nell said, meaning they'd both hate it, but learning to be polite was one of the major steps from childhood to adulthood and this would give Lizzie and Josh ample opportunity to practice.

“Good. Then I'll come by at around nine tomorrow morning,” Mrs. Thomas instructed.

Another thing they would hate, getting up school early on a Saturday. But Nell was going to sell them even further down the river. “There's an event I have to cover on Saturday night. Would you be okay keeping them late or even overnight?”

“Yes, I suppose I could do that,” Mrs. Thomas said slowly, as if trying to fathom why Nell was so easily giving her what she wanted. “What event are you covering?”

Damn, Nell thought, she would have to ask. Better not to lie; getting caught would only make it worse. Mrs. Thomas, Sr. could be counted on to have spies at the Historical Preservation Society. “I'm going to the Preservation Society event,” Nell said.

“Oh? I wouldn't have thought that would interest you. If I'd known, I had two tickets and gave them away.”

“It wouldn't normally interest me, but several of the mayoral candidates are going to be there and a friend with a spare ticket suggested I tag along.”

“It doesn't hurt to get out more, although not so … well, let me know if you want to go to any of their other events. I used to be on the board, so I get everything.”

Nell understood what Mrs. Thomas was going to say. Not so soon after Thom's death. “Mother, I'm not going out for a relaxing evening,” she replied, her voice slipping into that coolly polite tone. “I'm going because … I'm going to have to be doing these kinds of things now. This is a close election and the Crier has to come up with our endorsements soon. I'd like to do more than just base those on press releases.”

“Of course, Nell, I didn't mean to sound critical. As always, I'm delighted to have the children. I'll see you tomorrow then.”

That was the end of the phone call. Nell was willing to bet that even as she put the receiver down Mrs. Thomas was
speed-dialing
all her Historical Preservation friends to ensure everything Nell did would be recounted in copious detail.

Maybe I should just wear a red dress and get it over with, Nell thought.

Then she realized it was time to get back to being a mother. She grabbed her purse; at least this time she would actually be out the door before Lizzie had to call.

I can't get used to this, Nell thought as she hurried to the parking lot. I keep forgetting about my children, and that's not a good thing to do with maniacs and murderers running around. And if I forget, there's no one else to remind me or do it instead.

The traffic was kind and Lizzie and Josh were just coming out as Nell pulled up. As they approached the car, Nell realized she hadn't gotten to the logistical
follow-up
. She couldn't drop them off at home; between attackers and Mrs. Thomas, Sr.'s disapproval, that was too daunting. But she couldn't keep dumping them on Kate.

“We're going back to the office,” Nell informed them as they got in, Lizzie again peremptorily taking the front seat.

“Do we have to?” she protested.

“Yes, we have to. I can't leave yet and with everything that's going on, I'm not comfortable leaving you home alone,” Nell responded.

“Can I go to the library or is my leash shorter than that?” Lizzie asked.

“Depends,” Nell said as she pulled back out onto the street.

“On what?” Lizzie pushed.

“My mood and your behavior,” Nell answered, but she said it lightly. Lizzie was being grumpy, but it was
low-level
grumpy for her, and Nell wasn't going to risk a contest of wills over going to the library. “What do you need at the library?”

“Get some books, stuff,” her daughter replied.

“Josh, do you want to go to the library?”

“Oh, God, do I have to babysit him?” Lizzie said.

“I don't need you to babysit me,” Josh answered from the back seat.

“Did earlier this week,” was his sister's reply.

“I'm sending Josh along to spy on you and make sure you don't take a side trip on the back of any motorcycles,” Nell informed Lizzie. That quelled her protest.

Nell dropped them in front of the library and watched as they entered. Although the building was across the square from the Crier's offices, she didn't want to worry about them walking unescorted across that open space. She wondered if she was being paranoid or cautious.

Then it was back to the world of press releases, phone messages, and paperwork.

She had just gotten the new press releases and messages sorted into reasonable piles when Pam interrupted her to announce a visitor.

In the time it took Pam to tell Nell that the sheriff was here to see her, he'd crossed the newsroom and was at her door.

The mayor, the chief of police, and now the sheriff of the county, Nell thought. I must be batting a thousand.

“Afternoon, Miz McGraw,” he greeted her.

“Good afternoon, Sheriff. If you're here about the story in the paper, I've already heard from the mayor and Chief Brown. To save both of us time, I will repeat what I said to them. Too many people know about the bones by now; there's no way to suppress the story. My intent is to report in a fair and evenhanded manner, but I do intend to follow up.”

“Mayor Pickings and Chief Brown got a problem with that?” Sheriff Hickson asked.

“They seemed to think keeping it out of the local paper would be effective in killing the story. I gather the remains being found on land the mayor's family used to own is politically embarrassing, at the very least.”

“They came over here and warned you off?”

“Beat you to it, clearly,” Nell retorted. “Now that you're here, why don't you tell me how the investigation is proceeding?” She motioned to the chair across from her desk.

“Mayor's dangling a possible retirement bonus in front of Whiz, so when he says jump, Whiz's already in the air 'fore he asks how high. Tight election this year and Hubert is just fool enough to think he can tell you what to do.” The sheriff eased himself down in the chair. “Well, I'm not here to talk to you about the bones. I'd like to know who they are and who did it, but given how long ago it all was, I don't have much hope. May have to settle for just a proper burial. I don't have much to report yet. We're going through old missing persons records, but
fifty-some
years back isn't easy. Harold Reed, the assistant DA, is trying to pry loose some funds to do facial reconstruction. We do that, then I'd be more than glad to have you put in on the front page.”