Drowning Barbie (14 page)

Chapter Twenty-eight

Sam arrived after lunch with Karl. Ike introduced her to TAK who looked up at her with eyes that in another generation would have been described as moony. As he stood five-foot-nine and she a few inches over six feet, his only option was to look up. She smiled and he nearly collapsed. The two of them disappeared into the converted jail cell that used to serve as her inner sanctum. Karl dropped the bag of clothing found in Abe Schwartz's barn on the floor next to his temporary desk.

“What did you do with Martin?”

“Essie is babysitting both of the kids. She's in hog heaven. I'm afraid I got next to nothing from this pile, Ike. About all I can tell you from checking the labels in the PJs is that they are for an infant and that they are fifteen or sixteen years old, but you already knew that. The papers are mostly a collection of school stuff, report cards, notes from teachers, things like that. They stop at the third grade, by the way. I don't know if that is important or not.”

“Whose?”

“The notes are addressed variously to Mrs. Smut or Smuts, Mrs. Dellinger, and Mrs. Franco. I deduce they were all sent to your dead woman over a three-year time frame as she shifted partners and identities. Equally, I guess the garments once belonged to the daughter. There might be some recoverable DNA on them if you wanted to find out.”

“I expect it will be a waste of time just now. Is there any indication why they ended up in my father's hay barn?”

“No clue. My guess is they were dumped in a hurry and maybe as an afterthought. Don't ask me why I think that. It's just that from my limited experience, things like these are more like mementos than practical items, you know. It's like someone collected them to pass along to a family member or as souvenirs. Also, I can tell you that the clothes were recently laundered and the papers sorted chronologically. They seem to have gotten mixed up a bit along the way, but I think that was the idea.”

“The photographs?”

“Same thing. I left them with Sam and your intern. She will tackle the head shot first and then enhance the group pictures. You think the stuff was dumped by the missing daughter?”

“I think that is one possibility. What I want to know is how they ended up in the barn. If the girl put them there, where'd she come from and why dump them in the barn?”

“Maybe the mother did it. I can't think why either, but nothing in this case makes a hell of a lot of sense.”

“If her mother did it, when and why did she pick that spot? On the other hand, if someone else dumped them, who and why and when?”

“Maybe Sam will come up with something.”

“Let's hope.”

TAK rounded the corner and stood in front of Ike's desk. “Sir?”

“Do you have something for me, son?”

“Yes, sir. Ms. Hedrick ran that picture you gave me through her program, the one that ages people, and here it is—the girl at sixteen and then at eighteen and also at twenty.”

Ike took the pictures and spread them out on his desk. “That's the girl.” He pointed at the presumptive eighteen-year-old. “That's the girl from Lee Henry's. I'm sure of it. Come on, Karl, we have a call to make at the Cross Roads Diner.”

***

Leota Blevins' confrontation with her cousins the next day had not gone well. Flora Blevins fixed her with the gaze that had cowed scores of customers over the past two-and-a-half decades and demanded she tell her why. Her cousin, Arlene, sat in the corner trying desperately to look small, which is not easy for someone of her girth. If Arlene, with her generous curves, rosy cheeks, and ‘natural insulation,' as her father used to describe her, could be described as a dumpling, Flora was beef jerky—tough, stringy, and definitely an acquired taste. Flora fixed her out-of-town cousin with a glacial eye.

“Why, after all this time did you decide to dump her in my backyard, Leota? I swear some days you don't have the sense of a squirrel. First it's that bum you near-to-married and then years later you up and go promising the girl a new life. Okay? And then you dump her back here. Did you know what this has done? Do you have any idea the spot you put her in?”

“Flora, listen to me. What Mark Dellinger and I had or didn't have back then is done and dusted. There's no reason in the world to drag all that up again. Now about the girl, Darla—”

“Now ain't that just typical of you, Leota? Don't you agree, Arlene? Of course you do. It all started with that loser. Do you realize that if you hadn't of dragged that sorry pup back here to Picketsville, there wouldn't be no Darla Dellinger to get herself messed up? He gets into town, lays eyes on Ethyl Smut, meets up with her drinking buddies and bam, we got us a baby on the way—a baby that ends up living with a monster for a mother.”

“If you and Granny hadn't stuck your noses in where they didn't belong, that girl would have be mine, not Ethyl's, and raised up right.”

“Leota, for someone who has a college degree, sometimes you can be as dense as a box of hammers. I know you never was no good at math, but that girl was born seven months after you and the Marine broke up. Seven months, Leota. Think a minute. That bun was in the oven while you and the loser were still together.”

“No! She was premature because of the dope.”

“She was late on account of the dope, Leota. Wake up, woman. I know you thought that if you could get Dellinger to settle down, you could maybe make a solid citizen out of him. But he were a loser, Leota, and instead of you making him a decent citizen, you'd have been ruined instead, and Ethyl Smut woulda been in and out of your life forever.”

“No, that isn't true.”

“Face it, Leota. I'm right, ain't I Arlene? There, you see? Arlene agrees.”

“Arlene hasn't said a word in the last hour. How do you know she agrees?”

“You ain't answered my question. Why'd you dump that poor girl off here?”

“Because…I can't say, Flora. Something happened a while back and I figured that she'd want to be close to where she grew up for a while, and I thought a visit would be helpful. I had things to work through. Then, I figured if she had a look around and saw things were different, she'd begin to open up some. I intended to take her back after that. You are her godmother, after all. I would have thought you'd be pleased.”

“I am that, but how do you figure her coming back to Picketsville and being, first, with her ruination of a mother, and second, in the same county that has George LeBrun on the loose, could be a good thing?”

“Her mother wasn't going to be a problem and I didn't know about George. She needed a new start and Virginia Beach wasn't working.”

“How do you mean her mother wasn't going to be a problem, for mercy's sake? What else could she possibly be but a problem? Surely you didn't think the girl was strong enough to fend her off?”

“She wouldn't have to fend because…Never mind, you were here and I didn't know about George at the time. How could I? He's supposed to be serving life or something. How'd he get out?”

“One of them lawyer things. Evidence questions. Ike is mad as all get out and he'll put him back in PDQ, but in the meantime, we got to hide the girl so's LeBrun can't find her.”

Leota stared at the sacks of potatoes and canned carrots against the wall. “Where is LeBrun, do you know?”

“He's around. Someone said he's rooming over at Alex's Road House out on the highway where all them bikers hang out.”

“I have to go.”

“What? Where you off to? What about the girl?”

“I said, I have to go. Don't worry, Darla is going to be fine with you and Arlene.”

“With me and Arlene? You just wait a minute, Missy.”

Leota had slipped out the back door of the Cross Roads the same time Ike and Karl entered through the front. Things might have turned out differently had they used the same door, or perhaps not. People who think a certain way will tell you it's about Karma and what will be will be, and that fate must run its course no matter how we think we can will to change it. They're usually optimistic and usually wrong.

Chapter Twenty-nine

“Would you care to identify this woman for me, Flora?” Ike thrust the picture of eighteen-year-old Darla at Flora Blevins. “Or maybe it's this one you might identify.” And he flipped over the twenty-year-old version.

“Don't know what you're talking about,” she said. “How am I supposed to know them girls?”

“How about you, Arlene. Ever see this girl?” Arlene studied the two photos as if her life depended on it. She glanced at Flora and shook her head.

“Karl, what do they teach you at the FBI Academy about lying?” Ike asked.

“It's in the eyes, Ike, always it's in the eyes. They dilate, or they shift left and down, or they slip out of focus. That indicates to you that your suspect is lying.”

“I ain't no ‘suspect,' Ike, and you know it.”

“Right, not a suspect. And did you see anything like that in Arlene's eyes, Karl?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“How about Flora here? Did you see any evidence of prevarication in those baby blues?”

“Right again.”

“Well, Flora, there you have it. It can't just be me. Karl is a certified FBI special agent and he will testify, in court if he has to, that you are, and have been, lying to me for several days now. Why would you do that? Am I not one of your favorite customers? I always clean my plate and leave a generous tip. So, why won't you tell me the truth?”

“You're getting mighty big for your britches, Mr. Sheriff.”

“Okay, Flora, cut the crap. Darla Dellinger, or Smut, is in your care. She has been for days. She had her hair cut by Grace Chimes at Lee Henry's. I was there. I saw her. You knew we were looking for her all this while and yet you kept her under wraps. You knew I wanted to talk to her about her mother's murder. By hiding her you are guilty of obstruction of a criminal investigation. Unless you want me to make that charge something more, you will tell me right now where she is.”

Flora's eyes, deepened in hue from azure to angry cobalt, the color a sky becomes a before a tornado whirls into town.

“So, go ahead and throw the cuffs on me, Ike. Whatever you got to do, you do it, but I ain't telling you where the girl is at.”

Ike sighed and looked at Arlene. “Arlene, help me out here. You and Flora don't really want to go to jail, do you?”

Arlene opened her mouth to say something.

“You shut your trap, Arlene, or I tell the whole town what you done with Hake Longanecker down in Cardwell's Gaseteria on Halloween night in '99 and him being married at the time.” Arlene's mouth snapped shut with a click that could have been heard in the next room, had anyone been listening for it. “Arlene ain't got anything to say. So, what's it to be, Mr. Sheriff? Are you going to haul the two of us in?”

Arlene began to whimper.

“Flora, I will not do that, not yet anyway, but understand this, the instant I think I need to, I surer'n hell will. Also, Flora, think about the possible consequences of what you're doing. George LeBrun is out on bond and in town. If he gets wind that the girl is local, he'll be after her before you can ruin another steak. He will not be nice and whatever happens will be on your head.”

Flora pursed her lips.

“I can protect her, Flora, in ways that you can't.”

“You forget her story, Ike. What she's been through? She's as afraid of the police as she is of George. You'll have to give me some time.”

“I don't have any time to give, Flora. If anything happens to that girl…if George finds her…well you think about it. You, too, Arlene. Okay, Karl, we're done here.”

***

Ike and Karl returned to the office. Jack Feldman lounged in one of the chairs near Ike's office door.

“Feldman, why aren't you on patrol?”

“On my way, Boss, but I needed to ask you something first.”

“I've told you before. Don't ever call me boss. Okay, what?”

“I hear you confirmed that the girl, Darla Dellinger, is in town.”

“We think so. If she isn't now, she was. She's been posing as Flora Blevins' niece. Why do you ask?”

“Well, I thought I might help you when you get around to doing a sweep. I know the folks pretty well who used to be the Smut woman's friends. I could be useful.”

“Right, thank you, Jack. I'll let you know.”

Feldman rose and sauntered out the door. “And don't forget, I know George pretty good. I can anticipate what he's up to, if that's a help.”

Ike's gaze stayed locked on him until he was out of sight.

“Problem?” Karl said.

“I don't know. It's just that Feldman never volunteers for anything. He may be the laziest cop in town. Also, he's one of the very few holdovers from my predecessor's term. That group included George LeBrun, in fact.”

“Why'd you keep him?”

“Cleaned house as best I could. Some of the old-timers seemed pretty straight—Billy and Essie, for example. He seemed okay at the time and the politics suggested I keep some of the old staff. So, unless there was a hue and cry from the people, I did.”

“Any reason to suspect trouble now?”

“No…except, as I said, Feldman never volunteers for anything, so why now?”

“Maybe you should give him the benefit of the—”

“Doubt? Karl, I didn't live this long by giving anyone the benefit of the doubt. The justice system can and should do that, but when you chase bad guys for a living, you can't afford the luxury.”

“Still, he said he knew the people that grew up with and around the girl. He could be useful in identifying the ones to talk to and, don't forget, he knows or knew LeBrun. He'd realize better than anyone what that sadistic slimeball could do. He might really be concerned about the girl.”

“You're right, he might.”

“But you're not convinced?”

“I am not anything, right now. All I want to do is find the girl before LeBrun does and if that means trusting Jack Feldman, locking up Flora and Arlene Blevins, or burning down the Town Hall, I'll do it.”

“Let's don't burn down Town Hall.”

“Couldn't even if I wanted to.”

“Why?”

“We're standing in it.”

***

After her confrontation with her cousins, Leota drove without thinking about a destination, preoccupied with thoughts about her past, about what might have been. Could it be true what Flora said about Ethyl Smut's pregnancy? What did that say about all those years she'd spent pining over a lost love, a missed chance at marriage and happiness, and more importantly, what she should do next? Common sense told her to turn the truck eastward and head home to Virginia Beach as fast as she could. Once there, park and forget the whole sorry mess ever happened, the past and the present. She was no more equipped to handle a damaged teenager than fly to the moon. What had she been thinking? She also realized that as much as she disliked her cousin, Flora, she recognized her as a strong woman and one who would know best what to do for the girl. Leota, on the other hand, seemed to have made a botch of everything. No, the best plan would be to leave her with the cousins. Still, she hesitated. What if LeBrun…How was she supposed to know about him being out of jail? He'd been sentenced to life-plus the last she'd heard. Could anyone have even guessed he might get out? Not very damned likely. What if he found out that Darla was staying at Flora's? He might kill all three.

She pulled off to the side of the road and shut down the engine. The whole thing had started out reasonably well. How could it have gone so badly so quickly? She felt a migraine coming on. She rummaged through the glove box in search of her pills and that's when she got lucky. She did not know it was luck until later, after she decided to go felon-hunting. She had her water bottle up and had just popped two zolmitriptan when a car drove by and in its backseat, as big as life, sat George LeBrun. She recognized him at once even though it had been years since she'd seen him. Some people never really change—in appearance or attitude. She didn't know if it was instinct or divine inspiration that caused her to move, but she sat up, turned the key, started her engine, and followed the car and its passenger.

She would spend the remainder of the day staked out at Alex's Road House.