Nuts and Buried (17 page)

One thing I didn't think about was who would be lounging around in the Nut House that time of day. There was Miss Ethelred and Freda Cromwell, big as life and twice as loud. And didn't Ethelred lean back on the heels of her run-down shoes and squeeze her eyes almost shut when Hunter and I walked in.

“So you got another murder on your hands, Deputy. Telling you, listen to Freda and me here and you'll have this thing solved. Now some stranger's dead. Who do you think, but gun runners are doing it? I've got something to show you here.” She opened her black bag and pulled out a folded newspaper, thrusting it toward Hunter. “Take a look at that article.
Houston Chronicle
. Says they caught men in Galveston setting up a gun deal. Bet you didn't see it. So stands to reason that's what we've got going on in Riverville. Bet anything that man you found dead killed Eugene trying to get the guns out of there and now the other runners got him.
Probably kept the money he was supposed to give Eugene. So easy, if you just look at things right.”

“You really think Eugene Wheatley was that kind of man? That he would even know men like that?” I couldn't keep quiet. Hunter was too polite and it drove me crazy.

“Maybe you should stay out of this, Lindy. Leave it to the professionals.” Ethelred turned away from me, her broad back a wall I wanted to thump as hard as I could thump.

Freda, beside her, elbow high, nodded and grinned at me. Freda had the kind of eyes that light up like little penlights and stay on you until you think you're going to go blind.

Hunter shook his head and smiled. “Well, ladies, I sure do appreciate all your help, but the thing is, the courts want us to find proof before we go around arresting people.”

“Look for those gun runners, I'm telling you.” Ethelred turned to Hunter. “You'll find all the proof you want. Bet anything they've got messages they've been sending between them. Might be in some other language, but I figure you'll know somebody who can speak Colombian or whatever.”

“Yes, ma'am.” Hunter tipped his head. “I'll keep all of that in mind.”

“Humph,” Ethelred said and crossed her arms in front of her. “Do as you like, but you'll be sorry when people keep dying around here.”

Meemaw came from the kitchen and rescued us, inviting us back for coffee and one of her just-out-of-the-oven pecan rolls, which sounded wonderful, but Hunter suggested we go up to my apartment to talk. Somehow the Nut House leaked gossip like a sieve.

Treenie Menendez came from the kitchen to take over for Meemaw with the customers. I saw her eye Ethelred and Freda and purse her lips. “You go on, Miss Amelia,” Treenie said, almost gleefully. “I'll clean this place out pretty quick.”

And I bet she would—pretty quick, moving Ethelred and
Freda to the rocking chairs on the front porch so she could sweep or mop or some excuse to get them out of there.

Meemaw brought the hot pecan rolls up with her. She knew the quickest way to Hunter's heart was through his love of pecan anything. I could see her watching the two of us in my tiny kitchen, eyes going back and forth until she knew it was real and then her face lit up—at least we were friends again. She set a huge pecan roll—dripping with glaze and tiny bit of pecans running over the cinnamon and sugar, and dough as light as a cloud—on a paper plate for each of us.

“So here's where we stand,” Hunter started when he could talk again. I had to reach over to pick pecan bits out of his chin whiskers. There was no taking him seriously looking like a kid who got caught stealing from the kitchen.

“You heard that dark man was found dead this morning, over to the Watsons.” He was talking to Meemaw. “Shot once. We got the bullet. I heard from ballistics a little time ago. The bullet's not from the same gun that killed Eugene.”

“Didn't expect that,” Meemaw said, a worried look moving over her face. “We don't usually have a whole lot of killers going around Riverville shooting people. Now we've got two.”

“Could be the murderer just used a different gun on Eugene.”

“Could be. But I kind of doubt it. Jobs like that, you'd want a gun you're familiar with.”

“Then, like I was telling Lindy, I'm looking close at Billy Truly.”

She dropped her head into her hands for a minute, thinking, then thumped her hands on the table, jiggling her cup. “How about Sally's death? Could Eugene's and Sally's deaths be connected?”

“That's what Lindy was asking. I'll get on that one, though Sally's death was ruled an accident at the inquest.
Be hard to prove different now. Too many miles and too many years between all of this.”

He looked over at me. “Like I said before. I got two phone calls. We got a hit on the news program. Miss Lydia Hornbecker called the station, said she recognized the man we want information on. He was rooming at her boardinghouse. Said his name is Henry Wade. Wrote on her register he was from El Paso. Been with her a couple of weeks now.”

“Lydia Hornbecker?” Meemaw sat back. “I've known Lydia since I first came to live in Riverville. Worked together a hundred times on bake sales for the church. Lydia makes the best apple pie you ever tasted. Almost beat me out in the pie contest at the fair a couple of times. Why, I'd love to go talk to Lydia. Had to take in borders since Sam died a few years ago. But she's got a flair for takin' care of people. I'd like to see her, if you're heading over there and you don't mind.”

And so the three of us were sitting on Miss Hornbecker's veranda a half hour later, going over her register of boarders and listening to her description of Henry Wade as a nice man who never caused her the least bit of trouble. “Cleaned his room for himself so all I had to do was change his bed every couple of days and give him fresh towels. You know, Miss Amelia, I found these dryer sheets that puff towels up like brand-new. Be happy to write down the kind, if you want it.”

Meemaw was, of course, interested, but a little more interested in Henry Wade.

“Did he say he knew anybody in Riverville?” Meemaw asked as Hunter made notes.

Miss Hornbecker thought awhile. “Henry wasn't a talkative man, ya know. Kept to himself mostly. I didn't ask him questions 'cause I thought that would be pryin'.”

“Did you notice anything in his room that wasn't right, when you did go in there?”

She thought again then shook her head. “He kept his room neat as a pin. Nothing ever layin' around like some
people. You wouldn't believe how sloppy some are. And not just the men. Why, I've had women stay here leavin' a trail of powder behind them. Lipstick smears on the towels. I asked one to leave after two days because the smell of her perfume went all through my house. You wouldn't believe how I was sneezin'. Took me days to clear it out.”

“Everything in his room just the way he left it?”

She nodded. “Saw the picture on the TV and knew enough to leave that room locked until you got over here.” She was talking to Hunter.

“You mind if we go up?” he asked.

“Sure. All three of you, if you want. What you're gonna find is what he brought here with him. One suitcase. A long leather case—think it has to be a shotgun. I asked him and he told me he'd been hunting before he got to Riverville. Oh, and some kind of case I took for one of those computer things. Never asked me about Internet or anything. None of that password stuff. But y'all go on up and take a look. Only thing is, Hunter, you take anything out of there, I need some kind of receipt. There might be relatives coming and I don't want to be accused of stealing.”

With that agreement, we made our way up a narrow staircase leading from the back of the house. Our weight made the stairs creak. Hunter's boots landed with heavy thuds that brought other boarders to their doors as we passed. That meant explaining again what we were doing there. A couple of the women seemed struck dumb when they heard a murdered man had been living amongst them.

Curly's room was bare but serviceable and neat. The bed was covered with a homemade spread made of different-colored quilt squares. I was willing to bet some of them were from collections Miss Hornbecker inherited from long-dead relatives. Next to the bed was a nightstand with a swivel lamp on it. There was a mahogany dresser, a chair and a floor lamp, and a small desk with one of those green bank
lights sitting on top. The room was as neat as Miss Hornbecker had said. Nothing out of place. Nothing lying around. Nothing personal anywhere to be seen. I figured the dresser drawers and closet, maybe the bathroom, were the only places we would find anything.

Hunter nodded to Miss Hornbecker and told her we'd be down with a list of things we were taking. He had to back her out of the room. I could see she was reluctant to leave us alone rummaging through things she might be responsible for, but she got a promise from Meemaw not to make a mess and was gone, stopping along the hall, we heard, to reassure the other boarders things were under control.

The closet yielded the most: a suitcase tied with straps, something like a duffel bag. There was a computer case with an Apple computer in it, along with pads of notes and drawings. And there was that gun case, holding a rifle. Hunter didn't pull it all the way from the case.

“AR15,” Hunter said, holding gun and case in his hands. “The military uses them. SWAT teams. Uses full metal jacket cartridges—like the gun we found in Eugene's gun room. It's accurate at a pretty good distance. Could be the one we're looking for.”

He set the gun against the wall. “Fingerprints first,” he said. “Then we'll get it to ballistics.”

He wrote the gun down on the list for Miss Hornbecker.

“I'm taking everything,” he said. “The man's dead. Who knows what we'll find here? Maybe the names of people he worked for . . .”

“Are you buying into what Ethelred Tomroy and Freda Cromwell are saying?” Meemaw gave him a shocked look.

“'Course not, but I don't know who he is, where he's really from, or why he was hanging around town. Didn't have a driver's license on him when he died. No Social Security card. Nothing.”

“Then let's go through everything here,” Meemaw said.

“I'm afraid I shouldn't let you go through anything, Miss Amelia. I'll get in a whole heap of trouble with the sheriff if I do that. I'm asking you to just note what I'm taking out and wait to hear what we find. I promise I'll let you know.”

“I'm standing here now.” Meemaw fixed him with one long look. “One peek isn't going to mess up anything.”

“It's not so much me stopping you, Miss Amelia. It's about the defense attorney when we get whoever killed him. He'll be throwing fits if he knows you two were even up here.”

She nodded and I agreed. There was the future trial to think of.

“Then you'll let me know what's here as soon as you find out yourself?” Meemaw gave in and Hunter agreed, giving his word. “The sheriff knows what a help you've been to us in the past. He's not going to mind—long as we follow procedure when we have to.

“Tell you one thing,” he went on. “I'll get deputies out talking to the waiters and such from the party. See if any of them know anything about this Henry Wade.”

“Back at the Nut House you said you got two phone calls,” I asked before leaving. “What was the other one?”

Hunter gave me a sheepish grin. “Forgot to tell you. Your mama called, said you weren't answering your phone. That Dr. Franklin was out to your ranch wanting to talk to you. He was going to wait awhile . . .” Hunter looked at his watch. “That was two hours ago. Guess he's gone now.”

I could have been mad at him, but I wasn't. “Let him wait. I don't much like the man and don't have a clue why he keeps hanging around me. Seems he's taken to Elizabeth Wheatley. He's with her every time I see her now.”

Hunter nodded, both abashed and satisfied at the same time. I guess jealousy isn't something any of us want to admit about ourselves.

Back on Miss Hornbecker's front porch, Hunter turned to Meemaw, looking a little guilty.

“Miss Amelia,” he said, his head down. “I didn't mean to shut you out the way I did. Suppose you come with me back to the sheriff's office and we look at the man's things together. If you don't mind waiting while I go up and get the suitcase . . .”

He was carrying the computer and gun case.

“I've already got an idea what you're going to find, Hunter. You don't need me for that and I got pies to make for a banquet this evening. We know that gun was there for some reason. I'd say it'll match the bullet that killed Eugene. Maybe I'm wrong.” She shrugged. “I kind of doubt it, though. I'm thinking the murders of Eugene and Sally are tied together. Can't get it out of my head. And thinking about it, it has to be somebody here in town Wade was hanging around to see. Maybe Elizabeth. She's the third in the family. Maybe he was supposed to kill her, too.”

“Said ‘accident' about Sally's death,” Hunter reminded her.

“And I'd say right back: Take another look.”

Hunter nodded.

“I think that's settled then.” Meemaw was ready to get back to her work. “Seems this man's job wasn't finished or he'd have been long gone. We find out what he was doing here and who he was after, I think your case will be closed.”

“And I'll bet you another thing,” she added. “Billy Truly's not involved in any of this. I know people pretty well after all the years running the Nut House. More than likely, if you check with Huntsville, Billy was in there 'cause he got in the middle of something he shouldn't have. And I'll bet you something else—that mother of his had some part in it, too. I've seen women like her a million times. Tie their sons to 'em closer than a husband and then lead them around like puppy dogs, but they don't love 'em. Don't know how to love anybody.”

Hunter said, “I hope you know you're blowin' holes in everything I've been thinking.”

“I don't mean to interfere, it's just that if Sally was murdered instead of being accidentally shot, Jeannie and her family weren't even in the picture back then. Takes them right off the front burner, I'd say.”

“Speaking of Jeannie, I want to get out and see her today,” I said, realizing it was what I should be doing. “See how she's doing and see how the legal business is progressing and how she's getting along with the Chaunceys.”

“Aren't you going to the farm to see Dr. Franklin? He's been waiting a couple of hours by now.” Hunter's concern for Peter struck an insincere note.

I shrugged the suggestion off. “Let him wait. He doesn't know half what I know about propagation or much of anything else. I think he's pumping me for information. Something going on with that man.”

Meemaw agreed. “Got the same feeling from him. You
go on out and see the Chaunceys and Jeannie. I'm going over to have a talk with Ben Fordyce, see if he found out anything about what Elizabeth's pulling on Jeannie. Think he'll give me the rough edges of it even if he can't tell me specifics. You know, money always seems to be at the heart of bad feelings in a family. Well, money, and not getting the love a person needs.” She took a breath. “First back to the Nut House. Can't forget those pies. Jack Holmes with the pecan co-op'll be over in a couple of hours to pick them up. You two call me with whatever you find out. Maybe I'll see you at home later, Lindy.”

“I'll be there. I lost a valuable record book I need for an article I'm writing. Got to check my apartment first.”

“Not like you to lose things,” Hunter said, then smiled. “Except your shoes—down by the river; and your math book in school; and your sunglasses and your purse and—”

“My virginity.”

I knew that would shut him up all the way back to the Nut House, where he dropped me and Meemaw off.

Hurrying up the steps of the wide porch filled with rockers, me and Meemaw were laughing though she elbowed me hard when she saw Miss Ethelred and Freda rocking amid a circle of friends. They looked our way, calling out, asking what we thought was so funny.

What can you do but stop and make up a lie to keep all the watchers happy?

*   *   *

Meemaw was on her way over to see Ben Fordyce after the pies were made. I was still upstairs, hunting for the book, then changing into shorts and a halter. The day was hot, hot, hot, and I felt clammy, my hair sticking to the back of my neck. I brushed it up into a ponytail, ran a cold washrag over my face and arms, and was out to my truck and on the road to the Chaunceys' ranch.

On the way, I checked the phone calls I'd missed. Three from Mama so I called her and told her where I was going.

“You know that Dr. Franklin's been sitting out in the back, waiting. I'm too busy to deal with him right now. Got orders for the pecans coming in right and left. He wants to sit there, that's fine with me. Asked if he could go on out to your greenhouse. I said no, nobody goes out there without permission. Hope that was all right. I know he's a friend of yours, but to tell you the truth, Lindy, I don't much like the man. What people are saying is he's suckin' up to Elizabeth because of her money. Maybe she's not much of a warm person, still I don't like seeing her taken for a fool.”

Leave it to Mama. Chip off the old block. Or maybe, I was thinking, the nut doesn't fall far from the tree. Something like that. If she wasn't so busy running Rancho en el Colorado, where my grandfather used to raise cattle and now the family is firmly into pecan farming, I swear she'd be as good a detective as Meemaw.

“Could you, please, go tell him I'm not coming home today. Got too much to do.” I hesitated. “And Mama, would you call Martin and tell him to keep an eye out, in case Dr. Franklin decides to go to the greenhouse anyway? Tell him to send him away. Just say I don't allow anybody out there when I'm not around. Okay?”

“Take care of it right now. Will I see you later?”

“I don't know, Mama. Maybe for supper.”

By this time I was through the gates of the Chauncey Ranch and heading out the dusty two-track toward their house.

I groaned when I saw the blue car parked in front. Not the Trulys. I thought they'd be banned from the place. Now me and Jeannie wouldn't get anything talked about, not with Wanda and Billy listening. I couldn't imagine Wanda not having a comment on everything I said.

Melody was out of her chair first, waving and yelling she
was going in to get me some “honest tea.” That was her name for iced tea with just a little Garrison's Bourbon in it—enough to take away your cares, whether they be the heat, or rain, a fight with your sister, or putting up with the likes of Wanda Truly. I yelled back I sure would appreciate it and joined the others, hugging Miranda and Jeannie and nodding to the other two. We exchanged pleasantries like “How you feeling?” and “How are you doing?” and “How do you like this heat?” and “Wasn't it awful about that man found dead this morning?”

“What kind of a town you got here, Lindy?” Wanda Truly was quick to sneer. “Seems like y'all keep killin' one another off.”

“Mama,” Jeannie chided.

“Seems like it, doesn't it, Ms. Truly? But this one's a stranger. Nobody knows him.”

“I seen him on the TV,” Wanda went on. “He was at Jeannie's party. Did you know that?”

“You weren't there, Mama. How'd you see—”

“I saw him 'cause I was out in the kitchen.” Wanda slapped her hands together. “Wasn't invited to my own daughter's wedding celebration so I got myself a place helping the cook serve up the buffet.”

“Mama!”

“She did,” Billy put in, rocking slow as molasses, eyes shut. “Wanted me to do it, too. I told her ‘no.' It was your special day, Jeannie. Think you about had enough of us.”

“So you were that extra helper I heard about?” I said as if I didn't already know.

Wanda nodded. “Came in my own clothes. No servant's uniform or anything like that. I have my pride even though my own children don't think I deserve much.”

“That's not true . . .” Jeannie frowned. Her voice was weary.

“Seems to me it is. Not even invited. Your own mother.”

“How much longer are we gonna have to hear about it, Mama?” Billy said.

“Well, I'd like to see . . .”

Jeannie turned to me and asked if I'd come out about anything special, just as Melody slammed the screen door behind her and put a sweating glass wrapped in a white paper napkin into my hand.

I took a swig because I needed something fast. Three minutes with Wanda Truly and I was about to lose it. What I did was nod at Jeannie and try pretending there was no human being sitting in Wanda's chair. If the chair kept on mumbling things, I could just pretend it was all an illusion.

“Well, I did come out to ask you some questions,” I said to Jeannie. “I kept seeing that Curly around town. Hunter was getting the idea he might be after me for some reason.”

I noticed Wanda was stuck forward, holding her rocker still with her feet. She was taking in every word I said.

I leaned toward Jeannie. “Maybe we could go someplace else. This is information Hunter probably doesn't want out yet.”

I was talking to Jeannie, but that didn't stop Wanda.

“You get his real name?” she demanded. “All he'd tell us was ‘Curly.' Said to call him that.”

“Why don't the two of you go on inside?” Miranda got up slowly, with just a little tight menace to her ample body. “Come on, I'll clear a couple of chairs for the two of you to sit in the big front room and talk in private.”

“Well, I don't see . . .” Wanda protested.

Miranda stood tall, thumbs settling into the waistband of her khakis. She looked down her nose at Wanda. “Don't think you see a lot of things, Wanda. Beginning with what a pain in the petooties you can be.”

We escaped into the house ahead of Miranda, taking seats at their big table and pushing stuff out of our way.

“Here's what's going on,” I started. “The man's name is Henry Wade. We found a gun case in the closet of one of Lydia Hornbeck's rooms. That's where he was boarding. They already got the ballistics back on the bullet that killed him. Wasn't the same gun as the one that killed Eugene. Now we're all thinking maybe Sally's death had something to do with this.”

“Sally!”

“Did you and Eugene ever talk about it?”

“He told me what happened that day, directly after we met. Took him a long time to get over Sally. Well, I don't think he was really over her yet. That was awful for him and memories of it haunted him. I heard she was really a special girl.”

I nodded. “I thought she was funny and kind. Did he ever mention that maybe her death wasn't an accident?”

She shook her head slowly. “After that one time, he didn't talk about it at all.”

“Did they have any enemies that you know of?”

“You mean Eugene and Sally? Or just Eugene?”

“Either one.”

She shook her head. “Eugene had a lot of friends. We weren't married that long—a couple of weeks. If he had enemies, he didn't tell me about them.”

“What do you think about the relationship between Eugene and Elizabeth? Was it really close?”

She sighed. “I don't think Elizabeth liked me at all. That made it hard on us. Eugene just wanted to get back to Dallas, maybe close up things there and move pretty fast. Or he said if Elizabeth went away, we'd come back here. Just so we weren't too close to her. She's got a way of taking over things. Like that party. Eugene and I didn't want it much. We're not . . . weren't . . . that kind of showy people. Still, she's his sister and she thought there should be something.”

“So it was her idea.”

She nodded. “She did everything, saying she knew I wouldn't know how to handle a party that size and she had all this experience.”

I waited just a minute. “And that yellow dress you wore.”

“Yellow Rose of Texas. I thought it was nice.”

“But you know the history behind the Yellow Rose of Texas.”

“I do now. Maybe Elizabeth doesn't know it, though. She's the one got it for me.”

I remembered when she said it was Elizabeth's idea. Her own sister-in-law making a fool out of her at her wedding celebration.

“I noticed that Elizabeth didn't have a date there with her. Doesn't she usually have some kind of escort?”

“I thought her escort was that Dr. Franklin. They seemed kind of friendly.”

“She say anything about him? Did she introduce him as her date or what have you?”

“Just introduced him around, kind of holding on to his arm. Then I saw him talking to you and I heard . . . well, that you two were out to dinner . . . and I didn't know what to think.”

“Me either. He's been the one taking her everywhere since Eugene died. Guess maybe they became friends. Happened to meet and he asked her about me, because we're in the same profession.” I was trying to put things together.