Diana Anderson - Entering Southern Country 01 - Famous in a Small Town (4 page)

“But—”

“Don’t worry ‘bout it, Wanda. It’s all ours free and clear.” He hopped off of bed and hoisted the duffel bag from the floor and set it down on the bed. Dust flew up and then settled on the bedspread. He reached inside and pulled out a stacked bundle of one hundred dollar bills. “There are five hundred, one hundred dollar bills in a stack.” He flipped through the ends. “There are thirty-nine stacks in this bag not countin’ what I’ve got here in my hand.” He pointed to the bed. “And what you see scattered here is just one stack.” His eyes twinkled with tears. “Do you know how much that is?”

Confusion covered Wanda’s face.

His throat tightened. He swallowed several times and wiped a tear from his cheek. “Two million freakin’ dollars!”

“You counted it all?”

“There was a stack with a busted band, but I’m sure it’s all here.”

“And … it’s ours?” Wanda brought the bills in her hand to her nose and sniffed. She looked at Virgil.

He nodded his head and dropped the packs back into the duffel bag. He took a bill off the bed, grinned at Wanda, and wrapped it around his erection. “You ever screwed a millionaire?”

Wanda let the bills fall from her hand as she began to peel off her top.

8

“So, what do you think?” Raven asked Rebecca.

They had met over a late lunch at Boca Ray, a Bistro in the East Village in New York City. A few blocks from Raven’s apartment.

Rebecca twisted a red curl around her finger and studied the photo. “I like it. You’re not smiling, but your eyes are. That’s the one feature that sets off your looks. Your crystal blue eyes always look like your smiling.”

“Just one feature, huh?” Raven said.

Rebecca looked up from the photograph across the table at her. She opened her mouth to protest, but saw Raven’s smile. Rebecca waved her hand at her. “You know I didn’t mean it like that. You’re beautiful. It’s just that your eyes are intriguing. Mysterious.”

“Hey, I wasn’t fishing for complements, but thanks. So, is the photo okay?”

“Perfect. I don’t know why you’ve never had your photo on any of your books. It’s long overdue. Your readers are curious about you. Your bio on the inside back jacket is quite limited though.”

“It’s enough and besides, what’s to say?”

“Enough?” Rebecca reached down beside the table and took out one of Raven’s novels from her satchel. She held it up at an angle and began to read. “Raven Sawyer is a graduate of the University of Mississippi and holds a Master of Fine Arts in creative writing. She makes her home in New York City.” She dropped the book back into the satchel and looked at Raven. “Whoop-de-do!”

Raven picked up her glass of wine and took a sip. She set it back down, folded her hands together on the table, and said, “I don’t see the problem.”

Rebecca sighed. “We’ve become good friends the past few years. At least I consider you my friend, but I hardly know a thing about you previous to our first meeting.”

“You are my friend. There’s just nothing to tell. My life before my first manuscript was published was of little interest. Trust me, it would bore you senseless.”

“Try me.” Rebecca placed her elbows on the table and rested her chin over her folded hands.

Raven glanced away and then looked back at her. “I was born and raised in a rural area in Mississippi.”

Rebecca waited a few beats. When Raven didn’t elaborate, she tilted her head.

Raven shrugged. “What?”

As Rebecca opened her mouth her cell phone chirped. She held up her index finger, took the phone from her purse, and put it to her ear. “Hello?”

Raven watched her as she handled the phone call. Rebecca’s green eyes glanced at her. A minute later, she disconnected.

“I’ve got to run. That was the camp nurse. Tory has a stomach bug, and she feels that she doesn’t need to be around the other children until she’s over it. I’ve got to make the drive up there, pick her up, and take her to the doctor. So I need to get going.”

“Is she all right?”

 “The nurse thinks it’s just a stomach bug.” She gathered her purse and satchel.

“Is Emma okay?”

“Seems Tory is the only one complaining.” She stood to leave. “Don’t forget your meeting first thing in the morning with the editor. If Tory’s not better by morning, I’ll call Dennis. It’d do him a world of good to start acting like a father, and too, maybe he’ll catch the stomach bug. That would be retribution. Something he’s deserved for a long time.”

Raven sat at the table for several minutes after Rebecca left. She hadn’t talked to her mother but a few times since she left home six years ago. When she’d left home for college, her mother and she weren’t on speaking terms. When Raven had settled down in her apartment in New York, she’d sent a note to her mother with her phone number. A Christian counselor had suggested it and said that healing would begin if she’d talk to her mother about their issues. She’d never been close to her mother by normal standards. They had never gotten along about anything. Raven couldn’t even say she missed her or the home she’d left years ago. No, she didn’t miss that place. It was never a real home. She closed her eyes a brief moment and expelled a breath.

I hope to God, I never have to go back there.

9

 “You’ll never believe what we found?” Justin said over the phone to Cal.

Cal pushed up from his pillow and glanced at the time on his bedside alarm clock. “What are you doing up so early? Your shift doesn’t start for a couple more hours.”

“Jason called me. We’d talked about this during shift change. We found the car?”

Cal frowned. “What car?”

“The Jaguar.”

When Cal didn’t say anything, Justin said, “The
black
Jaguar.”

Cal thought a moment and then remembered. He needed coffee before conversation in the mornings. “And?”

“Nothing. It was way the hell out east on highway number four off in a ditch. There were no skid marks. If anything, it looks abandoned. We ran a check on the license plate. Reported stolen out of Brownsville, Texas about a year ago.”

“Well, now what? You woke me up for this? It’s not like it’s the first stolen vehicle to be found around here.”

“Wait. This is where it gets interesting.”

Cal waited a beat. “I’m waiting.”

“We popped the trunk and found ten one hundred dollar bills. One K was sticking out of a corner well by the tire wall.”

Cal scratched his morning whiskers on his chin.

“And … we found mud caked in the driver’s side floorboard. At least one of the occupants smoked. There were tons of cigarette butts in the ashtray. We also found a piece of paper with a hand drawn map on the passenger side wedged between the seats. The map looks like it leads out to the Neals’ place.”

“He’s got about fifty acres.”

“Yeah, but it don’t seem to be too far off the side of the road. Looks like it might be back behind his house. Not far from the Gentrys’ place. From what I can make of this map, I’d say it wasn’t in his front yard anyway.”

“What yard … oh, you mean junkyard?”

Justin laughed.

“Well, head on out there, and let me know what you find. I’ll be heading into the office shortly since you won’t let me sleep.”

“We’re heading there now. I’ll radio you.”

 Cal slipped out of bed and headed for the shower. After he’d showered and shaved, he got dressed and walked back into his bedroom. He grabbed his Stetson and hand held radio, and headed out of the room, and down the hallway.

His kitchen and living room were combined and separated by a bar. He eyed his coffee pot on the counter as entered the room. He clipped his radio onto his duty belt, but before he could turn it on his cell phone rang. He checked the caller ID. It was Justin.

“Yeah,” Cal said.

“Boss, you got to get out here now,” Justin said in a shaky voice.

“What’s going on?” Cal headed for the front door. He locked it on his way out, and then hurried down the steps, and on to his car.

 “It’s a mess. There’s …” Justin heaved and coughed.

Cal had heard that sound from Justin once before when they had arrived on a two car pile-up. The driver had been decapitated.

“I’m on my way, Justin. Where are you?” He got into his car, started it, and backed out of his driveway.

10

An hour later the M.E. arrived. Several onlookers parked across the dirt road with their necks craned. The ambulance came and left without a patient. Two bodies had been loaded into the coroner’s van.

Cal stepped out of the trailer onto the rickety porch and headed down the steps. Justin stepped out of the door behind him.

“What now?” Justin asked. He looked green around the gills. He took a deep breath.

Cal turned back. “Guess I’ll go see what Carl Gentry has to say.”

Justin nodded toward the road. “He’s right over there bending the mail carrier’s ear.”

Cal turned. Carl and the mail carrier stood beside Carl’s truck in the shade of the tree line on the other side of the road. Cal headed across the sparse lawn, crossed the road, and stopped in front of Carl.

“Sheriff? What happened to ol’ Virgil and Miss Wanda?” A young boy hurried around the front of the pickup truck and was followed by two others. They came to a halt in front of Cal.

Cal recognized them as Carl Gentry’s sons, all elementary school age. The oldest was Thomas, the middle, Benjamin, the least, Parker. Their sun bleached hair was mussed like they had just gotten out of bed. Their tanned bodies wore evidence of scratches and scrapes from playing outside in the summer sun.

“What are y’all doing here?” Cal asked as he eyed them. “Aren’t you boys supposed to be in vacation bible school?”

The three boys eyed each other. The smaller of the two looked down at the ground and shuffled his feet. Each had on different colored shorts, T-shirts, and flip-flops.

The middle one cleared his throat as if to speak, but the oldest beat him to it.

“Are they dead?”

“Sheriff?” Carl stepped forward. In the shade of his well worn ball cap his weathered forehead wrinkled with concern. “Are they?”

“Carl, would you step over here so we can talk in private?”

Cal turned and headed back across the road to his car.

“Y’all need to go wait by the truck,” Carl said.

Cal looked over his shoulder. The three boys had tried to follow. They hesitated and then walked at a slow pace toward Carl’s truck.

When Cal reached the car, he opened the passenger door.

“You ain’t arrestin’ me, are ya?” Carl asked.

Cal reached inside and grabbed a bottle of water. He closed the door and turned toward Carl. “Do I need to arrest you for something?” He uncapped the bottle and took a long drink.

Carl gave his head a quick shake and slipped his fingers around the galluses of his faded, blue denim overalls. “I’d never kill anyone let alone my best friend.” His eyes watered as he eyed Cal. “I’s assumin’ they’s dead. The amblance weren’t haulin’ nobody back to town.” He made a quick swipe at a tear that had escaped. “I saw ‘em load up two bodies on the meat wagon. Who’d do this, and why?”

“I was fixing to ask you what you might know.”

Carl lowered his head in thought. After a moment, he shook his head and said, “I couldn’t tell ya. Everybody that I know wouldn’t do such a thing.”

“Have you seen anything unusual around here lately?”

He thought a moment and then shook his head again.

“Any strangers hanging around?”

Cal caught sight of the three boys across the road. They were lined up against the side of Carl’s truck, looking on at the scene.

Carl thinned his lips. “No, sir.”

“Do you know if Virgil or Wanda had any enemies?”

Carl jerked his head up. “No! Everybody liked them two.” He thought for a moment. “Well, everybody ‘cept his ex old lady.”

“Callie?”

“Yeah.” He squinted at Cal. “Me and Virgil was in town together just las’ Saturday for some beer and ran into her. She was fuelin’ up that fancy car at Weatherley’s Pit Stop. When she caught sight of Virgil, she flipped him the finger.” He shook his head. “No reason at all, just flipped him the finger. He hadn’t said or done nothin’ to cause that either. You reckon she had somethin’ to do with this?”

“What’d Virgil do?”

Carl chuckled. “He called her a bitch and then told her, ‘I’ve been down that road with you, and it wasn’t good the first time. Pardon my language, Officer. I mean, Sheriff.”

“And?”

Carl shook his head. “That’s it. She got in her fancy Mercedes and left.”

Cal looked over Carl’s shoulder again. The boys looked restless. “Well, Carl, thanks for your time. If you can think of anything else, call the office.”

“Will do.”

Cal headed back toward the trailer.

“Sheriff?”

He stopped, turned around, and looked at Carl.

“I borrowed Virgil’s sledge hammer a few weeks ago. Yesterday the boys were supposed to take it back to him for me, but they got spooked in the woods and came back home. I don’t know what to do with it.”

“Carl, under the circumstances, I’d imagine Virgil wouldn’t care if you kept it.”

Carl nodded.

Cal went back into the trailer, headed down the hallway, and stopped at the bedroom door. Three deputies, Hendrix, Porter, and Miller, were in the room. Hendrix was one of two African Americans in the department. He was built like an army tank and kept his head shaved. Miller was short and stocky with short, curly, brown hair. Porter stood a head taller than Miller and a head shorter than Hendrix. She kept her dark brown hair in a ponytail and was the only female deputy in Laurel County. She was built like a female wrestler because that’s what she had done when she was in college.

The deputies were busy but took their time as they went over every inch of the bedroom. Every bit of hair, fiber, and blood sample they found would be bagged and tagged. The sheets had been stripped from the bed as well as the pillowcases.

The end table had been toppled from what looked like a struggle. Blood splatter covered the walls over the headboard as well as the carpet around the bed.