Roots of Murder Page 2

  Nell had stayed away for a whole week with Thom’s death and funeral, keeping her bruised face—and the guilt on it that she’d survived with only those bruises, a mild concussion, and some stitches—hidden. The next week she had come in to take care of the most necessary things, then found she needed the routine, and last week she’d come back full time. But she hadn’t thought beyond the next day, the next week. Brushing a spider web out of her face, Nell realized that she would have to start thinking about the future; was this what she wanted for herself, to be running a paper in a small city on the Gulf of Mexico?

  Thom should have been the one to survive. One of her first groggy memories was seeing the implacable fury on her mother-in-law’s face as she stood at the foot of Nell’s bed. She never said, never even hinted with words, but it was there. Two sons lost—one gone at an early age, drowned in a tide his eight-year-old body was not strong enough to fight. Now Thom, the one grown to manhood, and all she had left was her quisling daughter-in-law. A half-century of Southern politeness couldn’t keep her rage completely hidden.

  “I don’t have to decide today,” she said out loud. “Tomorrow … some tomorrow.” But for today, the paper was here and would be her life. “At least I have something to put on the front page.”

  The path was muddy from the recent rains, although the day was brilliant with sunshine. Nell felt a faint stirring of excitement, of being on a story, the feeling that had caused her to choose journalism. Nell McGraw, intrepid girl reporter, bushwhacking through the forest in search of ancient bones. Mixed in with the excitement was also a faint stirring of relief—in the past month, she’d begun to think she would never feel anything again except alternating grief and fury.

  One of the muddy patches revealed a recent mark of a boot print, assuring Nell that she had indeed turned at the right purple bandanna. The next sign of humanity was the sound of someone whistling. If I was alone in the woods with a skeleton, I’d whistle, Nell thought. Something to keep me company besides bleached bones.

  “Hey, Kate,” she called.

  “Friend or foe?” Kate called back.

  Nell followed the path around a large live oak, then spotted Kate about ten yards away. She realized Kate was probably in her early to mid thirties; she’d thought of her as younger. Maybe it was so often seeing her on a bike instead of driving, as if those were signifiers of youth and age. Kate was taller than Nell by several inches, with wheat-blond hair that had a few strands of gray to prove she didn’t dye it.

  “Friend, I hope,” she answered.

  “Friend, indeed. Come take a look at what I stumbled over.”

  As Nell approached, Kate crossed behind a large pine tree that had been a victim of lightning some time ago. It had recently split in half, one of the dead halves fallen, caught only by the encasing vines. Kate pointed to the skull revealed by the disturbed ground under the dead tree.

  “He’s been here a good long time,” Kate said.

  “How can you tell that?”

  “I studied anthropology in grad school, including a few courses in forensics. This fellow has gone to bone, no cartilage or flesh left. Doesn’t seem to be any cloth from clothing. Plus I’m guessing the tree grew over the grave, and that tree had a few decades of life before the lightning hit it.”

  “Are you sure it’s a he?”

  “No, just assuming. My first guess was this was a hunter who wasn’t careful about the safety on his gun.”

  “What’s your second guess?”

  For an answer, Kate picked up two bones. “Doc Davies told me I might as well pull this fellow from the ground; he’s clearly dead. These are the femurs, the thigh bones.” She lifted the bones to chest height and held them together.

  “Two of them. Aren’t there supposed to be two?”

  “Not two left ones,” Kate said. “It’s been a while since I’ve done much with bones and I could be wrong, but …” She trailed off.

  Nell stated the obvious. “Two left ones mean two dead people. Two careless hunters?”

  “In one place, at one time? Could happen, but it’s stretching probability fairly thin. Two guys get into an argument, they both have guns, one shoots, then the other one fires back and they both kill each other.”

  “So we have a very old drunken brawl,” Nell said.

  “Maybe, but why would they be on top of each other like this? They’re both shot, they’re both dying, they’ve killed each other, why cuddle up?”

  “Maybe animals moved them.” But she caught the other woman’s unease.

  “Animals might have scattered them, but we’re again stretching the laws of chance to think two raccoons buried them on top of each other.”

  “Have you called the sheriff?”

  “Oh, yeah, I was a good little girl, called him before I called you. But he’s tied up with some jackknifed eighteen-wheeler spilling chemicals out on I-10. He said these old bones could sit a while longer.” Then she added, “Of course, that was when I thought it was some stupid hunter. Guess I should call him and the doc again.”

  “Good thing you brought a cell phone.”

  “And a tree with easy enough branches to climb so I can get a signal,” Kate muttered as she headed for the live oak with convenient branches.

  Nell began taking pictures, starting at the spot where she’d first seen Kate. These shots might be for more than the front page. As she came back again, she heard the end of Kate’s conversation.

  “Sheriff Hickson, I used to be a forest ranger, so I know a few things about law enforcement, plus I studied forensic anthropology for a few years. I might be as expert as you can get before the rains come.” There were a few more “uh-huhs,” and then she punched the phone off.

  “He’s still at the accident scene,” she said. “Two rubberneckers going the opposite way wrecked into each other and now both sides of the interstate are blocked, with one fatality, and Doc Davies is there, too. Do we do the right thing and call the chief of police?”

  “So he can tell us it’s not his jurisdiction?” Nell asked. The police took care of the town of Pelican Bay, and the sheriff covered the rest of Tchula County. Wiz Brown, the acting chief of police, had started with the department at eighteen and was now counting down hour by hour until he could retire in a few months. Seniority alone had propelled him into the chief’s post when his predecessor had decided to have sex with a prostitute and not pay. The lady of the night had taken revenge by handcuffing the former chief to the bumper of his patrol car and relieving him of his pants. She had also taken the key to the handcuffs and called the media, allowing them plenty of time to take photos before a locksmith was summoned. Nell had published a shot on the front page, one of the most tasteful of the bunch with just a bare cheek showing. The ink wasn’t dry on the chief’s resignation letter—demanded by the aldermen in a rare show of actual decision-making—before he was beyond the town limits. So now Wiz Brown was in charge, and his vision for his term seemed to be to do as little as possible. He had refused to investigate a vandalism call because he claimed it had happened five yards beyond the city limits.

  Thom had been content to let Whiz be. “He’ll be out as soon as the aldermen find someone permanent. Why get riled up over a toppled mailbox?” But Nell had been annoyed enough to find the surveyor’s map for Pelican Bay and wrote a story about the police not answering a call that turned out to be within the city limits.

  Kate started to beckon Nell up to her branch, then seemed to remember that Acting Chief Brown was not likely to respond favorably to a request from Nell McGraw. It had been her byline on the story. Kate dialed the number.

  Nell didn’t even pretend to move away.

  Kate was on what appeared to be hold for several minutes. Then a few “yeses” followed by, “Well, yes, it is way beyond the town limits, but this may be murder.”

  Nell watched the expression on t
he woman’s face, Kate’s growing irritation as she listened.

  “I have called the sheriff. He’s out on I-10 with the chemical spill,” Kate said.

  Nell was now jotting notes.

  “In other words, Chief Brown, you’re not coming out here to investigate what may be a murder scene?” Kate said bluntly.

  Clearly the chief wasn’t close enough to retirement to leave that bald statement without putting a spin on it, as Kate spent another few minutes listening to whatever his excuses were.

  Finally she said, “I’m sure you’re very busy, and you’re right that these bones have been here a long time.” Her expression told Nell that she wasn’t agreeing with Whiz, merely parroting what he said so she could get off the phone. For that was what she did.

  To Nell, she said, “Thunderstorms are predicted for tomorrow, so I’m going to dig some more now. Those two femurs mean there definitely are two skeletons.”

  “Can I help?”

  “If you want. And I also think we should treat this as a murder site. Be very careful and don’t disturb anything if you don’t have to. Also, it’s a good idea to take a lot of pictures.”

  Kate borrowed Nell’s writing pad to make a sketch of the scene. Nell finished her photographing. They’d decided to get a good photographic overview, then a shot of everything that came out of the ground.

  Nell acknowledged that Chief Brown’s laziness was to her liking. This was an interesting story, certainly better than covering a sewage and water board meeting. Suddenly she felt like she’d run away from her current life of sitting in the paper’s office, trying to plow through paperwork that seemed to have no meaning, trying not to stare at the empty desk across the room. Of going through the motions of being a mother, trying to keep the anger out of what should be a minor discussion with Lizzie about doing dishes. Of trying not to stare too directly into the aching loneliness that came at night when the motions of the day stopped. Today was the first time since Thom’s death that she was out of the office and following a story. Lizzie and Josh were in school, and when they got out they could either go to their grandmother’s (not likely, Nell knew, but where they were officially supposed to go) or hang out at home squabbling over who got to use the computer. They would survive without her. For the moment, she was in the woods on a beautiful day, with a story that would engage her and keep her from thinking about phone calls from Tanya Jones or running the paper and staying in Pelican Bay. She could dig old bones hidden in the woods and find out who these people were and why they died in this lonely place.

  two

  Nell and Kate had been digging for almost three hours. It was hard, exhausting work, and in the last hour Nell found herself lagging behind the younger woman. She was mollified to see Kate straighten up, rubbing her back the way Nell had a few moments ago, and then join her and the water bottle. Kate had brought several with her and they were on the last one.

  “Can I ask the obvious question?” Nell said, as Kate sat down on the log next to her. “Why do you take bike trips equipped with digging tools?”

  “To dig. There’s something that might be an old Civil War trench around here, possibly a training ground for the local boys to fire their muskets. Some kids have been hacking at it with shovels. I made the mistake of letting on I have an MA in anthropology and the park ranger suggested I put it to work and excavate the site. I’ve been coming out here on my days off when the weather is good.”

  “Have you worked with human bones before?”

  “I did some of my graduate work with a forensic professor. It was interesting as long as the bodies were of a certain vintage.”

  “Like our current company?”

  “These are too young. I prefer bones dead long before I was born. If they cross my life … it means I might have known the person. Too close for me.”

  “ ‘There but for Fortune,’ ” Nell quoted.

  “How this person ended up in these woods could have been my path. But with the ancient bones, that was never a life open to me.” Kate paused for a moment, then asked, “Does it bother you? Maybe I shouldn’t have called you, maybe you wouldn’t want to be out here where somebody died.”

  Nell paused before answering. “There is no place it wouldn’t bother me. But what’s in these woods is not my tragedy. It’s a story. I’m a reporter—what I do is write stories.”

  They were silent, then Nell asked softly, “How is he … how does Josh seem to you?”

  Kate didn’t answer immediately, as if thinking. “Quiet. More subdued than before.”

  “Sad?”

  “No, more bewildered. Sad will come. Like everything is out of place and he doesn’t know where it belongs yet.”

  “I feel like he’s trying to make up for Thom being gone,” Nell said. “He does his chores with no prompting. He’s started to do things that Thom did, like carrying out the heavy garbage.” She had a flash of her son, the garbage can almost to his chin, pushing and heaving it down the driveway. She’d rushed to help him. She wondered what other things he was taking on when she wasn’t there to notice. “But he can’t be Thom, can’t make up for …” Nell felt her guilt speaking, her hands on the wheel of the car.

  Kate placed her fingers on Nell’s forearm. She said, “No, he can’t. And neither can you.”

  For a moment, Nell couldn’t talk; then got out, “That obvious?”

  “No, I’m just remarkably astute,” Kate replied, giving Nell’s arm a comforting squeeze.

  “Lizzie, on the other hand … she’s flung herself into being a teenager with a vengeance. If I had to tell her two times to do the dishes before, now it’s four times.”

  “So, which is harder to deal with?”

  “Lizzie, of course. She’s angry—she has a right to be—and taking it out on everyone and everything.”

  “Family is the closest. She’s been in the bike shop a few times with Josh, and she’s always well behaved and polite.”

  “Well, at least she can maintain in public,” Nell said, a hint of exasperation slipping through. On the day she’d helped Josh with the large trash, she’d had to make Lizzie come down from her room just before bed to finish the dishes.

  “Maybe she wants to make sure you love her,” Kate offered.

  “Giving it the acid test, that’s for sure.” Nell gave Kate a rueful smile and added, “Oh, I’ve read the books. I know she’s acting out from grief and it’s her way of dealing, that I need to be calm and reasonable and perfectly mature.”

  “Easier said than done.”

  “Much easier. I’ll let you know if I ever accomplish it.”

  Kate looked at her. “Nell, I don’t know you that well, but I can’t see you and Lizzie in a screaming match. No one is perfect, but I’ll bet you win the mature contest every time.”

  “That, yeah. I’d be in trouble if I didn’t.”

  “It’s hard. But you’ll come through it okay.” Kate gave Nell’s arm a final press, then got up, took another swig of the water, and went back to digging. Nell followed her lead, albeit at a slower pace; a good swig of water and then back to her assigned task of carefully brushing off the dirt and red clay from the bones.

  After half an hour, Nell had to stand up and stretch her back again. Forty, I’m only forty, she told herself. My mother was two years before my birth at this age. Of course, her mother had let Maggie, her oldest sister, do most of raising her. Maggie was fourteen years older than Nell and had died of ovarian cancer the day after Nell turned twenty. She took another swallow of water, careful to leave a decent amount for Kate.

  She surveyed the grisly results of their work. A good portion of a human skeleton lay spread out in a flat area. Most of the small bones were missing, so it lacked hands and feet, making the sight all the more macabre. Kate hadn’t said much as the pile grew, as if she was waiting for the evidence to accumulate to prove herself rig
ht or wrong about this being two bodies.

  Suddenly, Kate said, “Nell, come over here.”

  As Nell joined her, Kate pointed at the ground. Embedded in the earth was a skull. A second skull, proof that this unmarked grave held more than one body.

  “Get a picture of the bullet hole,” Kate said as Nell aimed the camera at their newest find.

  “What bullet hole?” Nell only saw the skull, discolored, with dirt clinging to it. Kate pointed to a small round hole at the base of it.

  Kate was silent while Nell took several pictures. Then she stated, “This is murder. No hunter could accidentally shoot himself in the back of the head.”

  “Two bodies, one definitely murdered. What have we stumbled over?”

  “I don’t know. I’m guessing there’ll be little evidence save for the skeletons themselves. But I’m not sure I want to be testifying in court about what I found.”

  “You think it will come to that?” Nell asked. This was an old murder, and old murders were unlikely to be solved.

  “I hope it comes to that.” Kate shook her head as if clearing it, then said, “When in doubt, call the experts. I’m going to see if I can get my grad professor on the phone to see what she recommends.”