Carolina Heat (24 page)

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

“A gravesite isn’t the sort of clue I was hoping for,” Annabelle said. The three of them stood around the large plot for Jefferson Davis and his family.

“Since all of Varina Howell’s descendants by her daughter Margaret are living in Colorado Springs, it’s as close as we’ll come today.” Mark slid his hands into his pockets. “I also think we can scratch them off the list of suspects. Sure, every family has a certain amount of pride in their heritage, but Colorado isn’t known as a hotbed of Confederate sympathizers.”

“True, but we’re running out of options.” Annabelle crouched down to compare the various names on the marker with the genealogy chart Jonathan created in New York. “Their sons Joseph, William and Samuel died as children, and their other daughter Varina died without any heirs. I think we’ve hit a dead end as far as Varina Howell is concerned.”

“I’d call it more of a fork in the road.” Jonathan offered his arm and pulled his sister up. He turned in a circle and gestured broadly at the graves surrounding them. “Lots of people buried here, and the way I hear it, most of them are related to someone who was involved in the Confederacy. Maybe your suspect used Varina Howell’s name as a red herring, or in a twisted sort of homage.”

“Excellent point, although not at all uplifting.” Annabelle began to pace, albeit gingerly to keep the heels of her sandals from getting stuck in the grass. “Whatever you call it, we have no idea where to go from here. If we research every single person connected to the Confederacy, we could still be standing here in five years and not be any closer to an answer.”

“Why don’t I tell you the reason I came down here?”

“Hmm, you have been rather secretive.”

Jonathan intercepted her pacing, and planted his tongue in his cheek. “I wouldn’t call it secretive. I’d call it justifiably distracted by the remnants of my sister’s wild sex marathon with a man she’s only known for a week.”

Just because it was true didn’t mean Annabelle would let the comment blow by without any defense. “Low blow. I don’t pass judgment on the endless string of brainless bimbettes who parade through your apartment on a nightly basis.”

“Not passing judgment, Belle. Merely trying to look out for you.”

“I’m older, remember? I look after you, not the other way around. And I’ve managed to take very good care of myself for quite a few years now.”

“Oh, so excuse the hell out of me for loving my only sister!”

Mark stepped between the bickering siblings. “Before any blood is shed, I’d like to bring us back to two important points.”

“Haven’t you done enough, Dering? Stay out of this.” Jonathan put his hand up in a warning gesture.

“What—you’re going to exchange blows in a graveyard? Have a little respect for the dead. I’ll wait over there until you declare a victor.” Annabelle sat down on a marble bench situated along the path. It afforded a lovely view of the James River, full of boulders and rapids, and close enough she could still watch the scene being played out without either man knowing it. Beautiful and serene, the cemetery was a perfect reflection of how deeply the dead were honored here. It brought the entire puzzle more into focus for her.

“Look, Jonathan, whatever issues you have with the scene you walked in on this morning are going to have to wait.” Mark shoved his hand through the thick curls on his head in what she now recognized as a habitual gesture of impatience. “When this is over, we’ll go have some beers—I’ll even buy. Talk through everything over a nice buzz. Best way to solve problems concerning women. But someone shot at us yesterday. Damn it, we don’t have the liberty of holding a grudge for a few days. This thing is at flash point already.”

“I know, I know. Why do you think I flew down here? Annabelle’s been in some questionable situations before, but this has Big Bad written all over it.”

“I agree. So can we table this whole how-dare-you-touch-my-sister discussion?”

Jonathan scratched his jaw, clearly uncomfortable. “Maybe she hasn’t had time to fill you in on the whole back story. Belle’s had her share of boyfriends, although lately she’s been so busy flying around the world we now consider two dates to be a long-term relationship. But she doesn’t screw around indiscriminately. Going to bed with a guy’s always taken way more than three dates, if you get my drift.”

“Yeah, I think I can follow along.”

This was probably the most surreal conversation Annabelle had ever witnessed. Her little brother had been paying closer attention to her than she knew. While weird, it felt like a giant hug to know that he cared so much.

Jonathan looked out over the river. “Hell, I barely know you. Definitely can’t make any judgment calls about you. This isn’t about you. This is about my sister being so obviously nuts about you she tossed caution to the wind. Bottom line, I don’t want to see her hurt.”

“You’re going to have to take my word that the last thing I want to do is hurt her. What I do want to do is make her deliriously happy. We have a few obstacles in our way, but I’m going to figure out a way around them.”

Oh. Another one of Mark’s over-the-top romantic exclamations. This time it didn’t make her itchy, or nervous, or put her on edge. It made her excited for the future. Or the chance at a future. She hadn’t felt that with a man in a long time.

Jonathan gave a begrudging nod. “Okay—a truce for now. But we aren’t finished with this conversation by a long shot.”

“I understand. And the offer of some tall cold ones still stands. I’m going to be hanging around, so we might as well get to know each other.” Mark walked over and sat next to Annabelle.

She didn’t want to let him know just how well their words had carried back to her from the edge of the bluff. So Annabelle looked up at him guilelessly. “Did you boys clear everything out of your systems? And yes, I do mean
boys
.”

He put his arm around her shoulders and hugged her close. “We’re good to go.”

“What are these two important points you wanted to make?” Jonathan asked as he joined them.

“Right. I was about to lend a positive spin to your fork in the road theory. The first point is a reminder we still have Ashby checking on Bellamy for us to see if his schedule would’ve allowed him to personally conduct any of these moments of violence.”

“Pretty poetic way to describe a murderer,” Jonathan muttered.

“Well, I’m a Southerner, and that means I can turn an elegant phrase with the best of them. Also, despite the fact the five of us are certain Tad and Vanessa were murdered, at this point we have no proof of anything besides the person who followed Annabelle and whoever took shots at us. Moments of violence, definitely, but only an alleged murderer.”

Deep in her gut, Annabelle
knew
it was murder. But she also knew better than to let instinct override the facts until they were all lined up and crossed off. “Fine. I see your point, even if you do sound like you’re already building a case for his defense. What’s your second point?”

“We still have the places listed on Tad Thornton’s itinerary. Sure, they could be another dead-end, but I say we at least go and see what’s what.”

Annabelle rummaged in her purse for her notebook. “It shouldn’t take too long; there were only a few stops up here. I think there was a museum, of course.” She flipped through several pages to find her notation. “Here we go: the Museum of the Confederacy and the Library of Virginia.”

Jonathan put his hands up in a time-out signal. “Before you run off at a thousand miles an hour, I’d still like to mention why I dragged myself all the way down here.”

“For God’s sake, you act as if we made you fly to Tahiti, instead of a two hour commuter flight. Mark and I probably spent longer traveling than you did.” She tickled him in the ribs to make her point felt.

“You know I don’t like to leave Manhattan. It is, after all, the perfect city.”

“Please—you don’t even like to leave your apartment,” she teased.

Mark’s eyebrows drew together. “I’ve read about people like you. Are you agoraphobic? You don’t seem particularly anxious being outside right now.”

“Wow, for a researcher you sure do jump to conclusions.” Jonathan shook his head in amazement, while Annabelle unsuccessfully tried to stifle a giggle.

“My brother’s not phobic; he’s a freak. He doesn’t like to leave his living room. He has six computers in a semicircle around him running at all times, along with a stereo and two televisions. Jonathan is the most ‘plugged in’ person you’ll ever meet. I’m quite surprised being out here with just a single laptop isn’t giving him hives of anxiety.”

“Techno-geek and proud of it, thank you,” he corrected. “After all, everybody has to be good at something, right?”

“You certainly dress the part.” Mark ran his eyes over the Led Zeppelin T-shirt under a vintage black bowling shirt, bulky black cargo pants and Converse high-tops. “No wonder you’re cranky. You have on enough clothes to stay warm in a snowstorm. Richmond...summer...you didn’t bring a pair of shorts?”

Their behavior was ridiculous. Two boys jostling for position on the playground. “What is it with you two? Every third sentence devolves into a squabble. We don’t have time for this, and I certainly don’t have the patience for it.” Annabelle stood up, and pushed her brother back several steps to create some breathing room. “Now, tell me what got you so worked up you were compelled to come down here?”

“The genealogy chart was easy.” He waved his hand at the papers they’d left piled on a gravestone. “I was finished almost as soon as you hung up the phone.”

Annabelle rolled her eyes at her brother’s blatant exaggeration. “Yes, I promise we’ll worship your skills later. Get to the good stuff.”

“It’s the book you wanted me to find. Didn’t take long to find the title from your description:
Sons of the Confederate Nation; A Legacy of Sacrifice
. The book itself is more of a mystery. I called Harvey and had him start a search.”

“Who’s Harvey?” Mark asked.

“One of my oldest friends, who happens to be an antique book dealer. His family’s been in the business for five generations. Their shop’s the best in the world.”

Delight washed over Mark’s face. “Do you mean Geistlinger’s? I use them all the time. Their store is a magical place. I can lose myself for hours in there.”

Jonathan bobbed his head. “Good, that means you know their reputation. If it was humanly possible to get a copy of that book, Harvey’d be the one to do it. But someone beat us to him.”

“Come on—even the Gutenberg Bible has five or six copies still lying around. Are you saying there’s only one of these books in the entire country?”

“Well, to give the Gutenberg Bible its props, it has a far wider audience than a specialty book on Confederate soldiers. But yes, there was no more than a single copy available on the open market. And someone purchased it from Harvey about two weeks ago.”

Annabelle shook her head slowly from side to side. “No, no, no. I refuse to accept this is a coincidence. Every year I spend in this business convinces me there are no coincidences, only clues that need to be deciphered.”

“We already knew it was a clue. The fact it’s missing doesn’t lead us anywhere different.” Mark shifted to face Jonathan. “I assume if you knew who purchased it, you would’ve led with that particular piece of information?”

“Hell, if I knew who bought it, I wouldn’t have left my fair island city. Harvey remembered the transaction because the book’s fairly rare, and it was the last known copy in ‘circulation’, so to speak.”

Annabelle jumped up from the bench. “Aha! The fork in the road. My investigative intuition is in high gear. I know you have something more, so spill it right now.”

“Timing is everything, dear sister, and you have no respect for mine.” Jonathan looked up in time to see the grim scowl deepen on his sister’s face, and he quickly continued. “Harvey responded to an email query. After he received a money order, the book was shipped to a box at one of those giant shipping stores in Charleston. I tried hacking the IP address, but only managed to track it to an Internet café here in Richmond. Anyone can log on for an hour and not leave much of a record.”

Annabelle was recharged. This was good. New possibilities, new doors to open. Anything was better than a dead end. “That gives us a few more places to dig. Jonathan, clearly you have to be the one to check out the Internet café, but I can go try to shake down the mail box store. Mark, if you’ll start at the Museum of the Confederacy, I can meet you there in a little while.” Annabelle grabbed their hands and tugged, ready to return to their cars.

“Whoa, sis. A good plan and all that, but again I’ve got to take issue with your horrible sense of timing. See, I haven’t gotten to the best part of the story.” Jonathan reached down and picked up the genealogical charts. “Here, I made copies for each of you. You should take them along on the off chance we find a way to tie this back to Jefferson Davis after all.”

Mark stuffed his copy into the cargo pocket of his shorts. “Let’s walk and talk before your sister yanks my arm off.” But he said it with a fond smile and a tender caress of her hand.