Diana Anderson - Entering Southern Country 01 - Famous in a Small Town (6 page)

“Nonsense. You’re already here, and Ted is dying to meet you. I won’t deny him that. Quit being such a baby and come along.” Callie turned and walked toward the front steps.

“I need to get my luggage.” Raven stepped to the driver’s side of the car, opened the door, and popped the trunk. She walked around to the back and pulled out a suitcase and a tote. She shut the trunk and made her way toward the house.

Callie looked over her shoulder, frowned, and asked, “Is that all you’ve brought with you?”

“It’s enough for no longer than I’m staying.”

Callie turned toward her. “You’re staying for the funeral, aren’t you?”

“That’s why I came.”

She eyed her suitcase again. “Well, Agnes, they haven’t even done the autopsy on him yet. It maybe weeks before they release your daddy’s body to be buried.”

Raven stopped in front of Callie. “What autopsy? Why are they doing an autopsy?”

“Why, didn’t I tell you when I called you?”

“No, Momma, you didn’t tell me.” She shook her head. “You were squalling so loud I could barely make out anything you said.”

“Well, I was so upset with the way he’d died.” She looked down at her hand and picked at a broken fingernail. “It was hard enough to comprehend let alone say it out loud.”

“What happened?”

She eyed her a moment and then said, “Virgil was brutally murdered.”

14

“It’ll be a few days before the M.E.’s report is ready,” Cal said to the assistant district attorney over his cell phone. We had a team over there combing the place. Don’t know what they found or when their report will be available. Of course, forensics will have to go over everything. Don’t know how long that will take or how long their waiting list might be.”

“What’s your take on this?”

“Hell if I know. Bloodiest mess I’ve ever seen. It’s apparent somebody was very angry.”

“So you don’t think it was a robbery?” the A.D.A. asked.

“Virgil Neal didn’t have anything that anyone would want to take other than his hunting rifles, and they are still in his closet. No, but it’s apparent they were tortured for some reason before their merciful death.”

“Was the woman raped?”

“On the preliminary investigation, it didn’t appear so, but we’ll know more when the coroner’s report comes in,” Cal said.

“Have you talked with any of the family members yet?”

“I’m on my way there now.” Cal disconnected.

Cal thought that maybe he should have let one of the deputies handle the task at hand, but he wasn’t a coward. He just wasn’t sure how this meeting would go.

15

Ted seems nice enough
. Raven was puzzled at his genuine politeness since he was married to her mother. The Lord only knew what he saw in her. His condolence for her loss had been sincere. His pale blue eyes revealed kindness and added to the perplexity of his relationship with her mother. Did he know her mother the way she did?

Apparently not.

Callie was proficient at deception and manipulation. He must work long hours to not have discovered her true nature. But Callie had had many years to perfect her devious ways. If she had changed, Raven doubted it. She knew her all to well.

While she sat at the table and had lunch in the elaborate dining room across from her mother, Raven’s suspicions were confirmed when the gardener stepped in the doorway. Raven listened as Ted answered her inquiry about his position as a Neurosurgeon at the Wallace and Hartford Neurosurgical Clinic in Memphis, but she diverted her eyes to her mother. Callie, with a look of hunger, scanned the length of the gardener while he made a request to be off earlier that evening because his sister was ill and needed his assistance.

He was a handsome man, Raven noted, although not to her own tastes. However, the evidence was there—her mother hadn’t changed—not one iota.

 Raven recalled the numerous occasions when she had returned home from school to a locked house, while her mother entertained her latest lover in her bedroom. The weather hadn’t mattered. Raven had sat on the doorstep until they were through. More times than she could count, she’d done all of her homework on her front porch. Callie had scheduled her affairs when Virgil hunted, or fished, or hung out with his buddies down at the local bar. Either he had never caught on, or he hadn’t cared.

“Is there anything that I can do?” Callie asked Salvador.

Raven knew that her mother wasn’t concerned about his sister. She looked back at Ted. If he’d caught on to her mother’s proposition, he never let on.

After Salvador left, her mother seemed disappointed but returned to her meal. She glanced at Raven who watched her with interest.

“What?” Callie blotted her mouth with her napkin. The lights from the chandelier over the table reflected off the multitude of diamonds on her ring finger. “I don’t have food on my face, do I?”

Raven shook her head and forked a bite of her salad. The doorbell chimed.

“You expecting someone?” Ted asked as he eyed his wife.

Callie looked a tad puzzled as she thought and then spoke, “No, are you?”

A moment later, Maggie stepped into the doorway. “The sheriff is here to see you?”

Callie stood up. “Oh my, I forgot.” She walked toward the door.

“What does he want?” Ted asked confused.

“Not you, Mrs. Wallace,” Maggie said.

Callie stopped and eyed her housekeeper.

Maggie looked past her. “He wants to speak with your daughter.”

Callie looked back at Raven. Raven laid her napkin down and stood up. She was confused herself. Why would the sheriff want to speak with her, unless it pertained to Virgil’s murder, and she didn’t know anything, other than what her mother had revealed—which wasn’t much. Maybe he had some information about the murder. Maybe they had apprehended the murderer. Questions prodded her mind as she made her way around Callie and the housekeeper and through the doorway that led into the den.

The sheriff stood in front of the fireplace with his back toward her as she entered. He was looking up at a portrait of her mother that hung over the mantle. He was in uniform and had a Stetson in his hand and wore black western boots.

In the portrait, her mother was sitting in an arm chair and posing for the artist. A pose that Raven had seen her mother take on many times when she tried to grab the attention of a man. The portrait, Raven noticed, had been painted in this room. The same chair and the large window in the portrait were across the room from the main sitting area. All the furniture was European style with blue and gold, floral design upholstery and rich wood carving.

“Sheriff?” she said as she clasped her hands together in front of her.

He turned. She unclasped her hands, dropped them to her sides, and then clenched them into fists.

His hazel eyes scanned her and then looked into her eyes. He smiled. “Agnes, it’s been a long time.”

Her emotions were all over the place, each one competed with the other. Of all the people she’d wanted to avoid, he had been at the top of the list. “Cal? What are you doing here?” she asked.

He glanced around the room before his eyes landed on her again. “I came to see you.”

“Me? What gave you the idea I’d want to see you?”

“Actually, I’m here on official business.”

Heat rose in her cheeks. Embarrassed that she had assumed it to be a cordial visit, she took a deep breath to try to relax the tension in her shoulders. Of course the sheriff would be the one to make the next of kin call.

But of all people, why did Cal have to be the sheriff?

“You could have spoken with my mother,” she said. “She would have relayed it to me.”

He shook his head. “Did she relay to you that I had called and was coming by this afternoon?”

She’d been away from her mother too long not to have seen that coming. She’d been out of practice with her mother’s habits. Seeing the truth in what he’d said, she conceded. “Very well, I’m listening.” She could be polite and offer him a seat, a drink, coffee, tea, or whatever, but she declined her inner politeness. She wanted him to tell her what he’d come to say and then leave.

“The crime scene, Virgil’s and Wanda’s trailer, is all clear for you to enter. I suggest you get someone in there to clean it up before you go inside. It’s not a pleasant sight.”

“Wanda? Who’s Wanda?”

“Your dad’s wife.” He eyed her puzzled.

She looked away for a moment. “Does she have family?”

He shook his head. “Just you.”

She looked down at the floor and realized that it was up to her to handle not only Virgil’s funeral arrangements but his wife’s too—everything. She didn’t want to go into their house. She didn’t want to deal with that part of her past that was sure to rear its ugly head the moment she stepped foot into it. She surmised Virgil had bills that would need to be taken care of along with his property and their belongings. She sighed, and the weight on her shoulders grew heavier and heavier.

“Also,” he waited for her to look at him once more.

She looked up. He looked an inch or two taller than she remembered. His sandy blonde, wavy hair was shorter than it had been in high school. His facial features were no longer youthful but mature and his body more muscular. Something in his eyes looked different, but she didn’t know what that might be, and she didn’t want to stick around long enough to find out.

“Virgil has a dog chained up behind his house. Do you want him, or shall I call the animal control to come pick him up?”

A dog?
What am I going to do with a dog?
“What will the animal shelter do with him?”

“They try to find homes for all the strays and unwanted animals.”

“Oh, well then—”

“But not all find homes and those that don’t, after a short period of time, get euthanized. They don’t have the funds to keep all of the animals fed for an extended stay. So the ones that have been there the longest are the first ones to go.”

She looked away a moment, her conscience ate away at her. Her eyes went back to his the moment he spoke.

“I’ve got to warn you. I highly doubt that dog will find a home.”

Knowing Virgil—he had taken care of the animal as he’d taken care of all the animals he’d ever had. He hadn’t. When she had lived there, she took care of them. Fed and watered them and trained them to not bark to avoid Virgil’s wrath. She’d picked ticks off of them, bathed them, and had given them the love and attention she’d never received. She pictured the animal emaciated, mange eaten, and crippled from one of Virgil’s lead footed kicks. But if she took him, she could get him to a vet and revive him to good health, and maybe someone would want him. However, that would take time. Time she didn’t want to spend in this place.

“What … what’s wrong with him?” she asked.

Cal shrugged and looked away in thought as if he pictured the animal. “He’s eaten up with ticks and fleas. I doubt he’s ever had a bath or seen a vet, so he probably needs vaccinations. He doesn’t look too worse for the wear. Looks like he’s been kept fed.”

She almost smiled at that but caught herself as she remembered who stood in front of her. “I’ll take care of it. Has anyone fed him since … ?”

“I went by there this evening and checked on him. Gave him some food and fresh water.”

She nodded a thank you. “Is that all, Sheriff?”

He studied her a moment. “That’s it.” He turned to go.

“Do you have any clues who murdered Vir … my father?”

He turned back and shook his head. “I’m sorry.” As an afterthought, he reached into his pocket and then held out his hand toward her.

She hesitated.

“The key to the trailer. It’s been padlocked to help keep scavengers out.”

She held out her hand, palm up, and left him no other alternative but to drop it there. He walked toward the foyer.

“Cal?” Callie called out.

He turned.

Her mother rushed across the room to the foyer and took Cal’s right arm.

“Please stay for coffee and dessert. I haven’t seen you in ages, and we’ve got so much to catch up on.”

He eased his arm from her grip and glanced at Raven. Her eyes were on them. “No, thank you, Mrs. Wallace. I’ve still got some work to do.”

“Mrs. Wallace?” Callie said. “Since when do you call me Mrs. Wallace? When you and Agnes were in high school you always called me Callie.”

He glanced at Raven once more and said, “I’m not in high school anymore, Mrs. Wallace. Y’all have a pleasant evening.” He put his hat on, turned, opened the front door, and left.

“Ugh! That’s ridiculous!” Callie said and then turned toward Raven. “Did you say something to him to cause him to behave that way toward me?”

Raven rolled her eyes as she closed them.

“Ah, I get it,” Callie continued. “You’re still upset with him over the affair.”

Raven opened her eyes. “I couldn’t care less about your affairs, then and now, although I’m sure you haven’t changed even with your new husband.”

Callie squinted at her as she crossed the distance between her and Raven. She stood in front of her and said through clenched teeth, “Keep your voice down. Ted doesn’t need to know how I was back then, and it’s no wonder that I was seeing other men behind Virgil’s back. You know full well he was cruel and without affection.”

“I honestly doubt that you’ve changed, Mother.”

“Is something wrong?” Ted asked as he walked into the den.

Callie replaced her scowl with a well perfected smile. “No, dear, we were just chatting about old times.” She looked at Raven, her eyes dared her to contradict her. “Weren’t we,
Agnes
?”

Raven wanted to burn her birth certificate. Callie continued to stare her down until Raven broke it. She turned toward Ted and asked, “Would it be all right if I kept Virgil’s dog here until I found a suitable home for him?”

“A dog!” Callie said with disgust.

Ted glanced at Callie and then looked back at Raven and smiled. “That will be fine.”

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