George, Anne (27 page)

"Damn it, Mary Alice. Did you hear what I said?"

She looked up, startled. "I asked 'who.' "

"But you aren't paying any attention, and this is important."

"Can I put this casserole in the microwave, or should I stand at attention?"

"Stand at attention, damn it. Cassie Murphy has the briefcase, and I'm sure the computer was in it."

"How do you know?" She slid the casserole into the microwave.

I explained about being in The Family Tree office looking for some information on Heidi Williams, and Cassie walking in. "I handed her the briefcase," I said, "and you could feel the little computer in it. And right on the flap were the initials MMB."

Sister took the casserole from the microwave, came to the counter, and sat on a stool, which groaned in protest. "I have got to lose some weight," she said.

No way would I touch that.

"You're sure it was Meg's?" she asked.

"I'm positive. Now how did Castine Murphy get it and why?"

"Hmm." Sister took a bite of casserole, rolled it around her tongue, and grabbed a glass of water. "Too hot."

"Anyway, I think she's messed up in whatever's going on, and I think"—I pushed the manila envelope of letters toward Sister—"that the answer is in here."

"I thought you said you'd read them."

"I started to, and they kept putting me to sleep. I need you to help me."

"But what are we looking for?"

"I don't know. I stuck a couple of them aside that looked like they might be questionable. They're on top." I got up and got a Coke out of the refrigerator. "But you know what I found on Meg's computer disk?"

Sister shook her head.

"Family trees that have been doctored." I came back to the counter. "You remember Camille Atchi-son, who called Meg a bitch at the wedding?"

"I found out she's Buddy's daughter," Mary Alice said.

"Your Buddy Johnson's daughter?"

"I'm afraid so."

"You've got to be kidding." But then I remembered that the files were listed as Camille Johnson Atchison.

"No, I wish I were. What about her?"

"Well, apparently she wanted to get into the UDC, so she went to Meg to have her lineage authenticated, or whatever they call it. Anyway, Meg found out that the principal ancestor Camille had in the Civil War was General Sherman."

Sister put her fork down and stared at me. "General Sherman? Buddy's kin to General Sherman?"

"I don't know. There was another lineage chart that had another Sherman on it in place of the general. A farmer in Georgia who fought for the Confederacy."

"I'll bet that's the right one." Sister looked happier. .

"That's not the point," I said. "It's the fact that someone has changed the records."

"Can they get away with that?"

"As long as they do away with supporting evidence." I told Sister about my trip to the courthouse and the missing papers for Clovis and Elizabeth Johnson.

"But wait a minute," Mary Alice waved a fork at me. "This could work both ways, couldn't it? Say you were an unethical genealogist and you truly found General Sherman or Adolph Hitler on somebody's family tree. You could have the client pay you to clean it up. But you could also stick General Sherman's name in where it really didn't belong. Blackmail them that way. Wow."

"Sure they could. I think that's what Meg was talking about when she said it was a 'dog-eat-dog' business."

"You think she was involved in changing the charts?"

"I don't know." I sipped my Coke. "I think she thought Bobby Haskins was and was trying to protect him."

"Why?"

"Why was she trying to protect him? He was her first love. You remember Odell Martin in a special way, don't you?"

"Who?"

"Let's read the letters," I said.

An hour later, we had come up with nothing. Mary Alice put her last letter on the stack and said, "I'm about to fall out, I'm so sleepy."

I yawned, too, and stretched. "I didn't tell you about going by Heidi Williams's apartment this afternoon," I said. "You know the one Georgiana Peach keeps asking about? She wasn't there, and she'd left her dog locked up for several days. Bo Mitchell came and let the dog out."

"Hmm," Sister said, "was she all right?"

"The dog? Thirsty and hungry. A neighbor's got her. But I forgot to tell you the most important thing. Bo also told me Georgiana Peach's gun was the one that killed Judge Haskins, that they found it in the swimming pool next door."

"Really? Why would you shoot somebody and throw the gun in the next door pool, where it would be found in a minute?"

"I have no idea," I admitted.

"Unless you wanted it to look like somebody was setting you up. Is Georgiana that devious?"

"I don't know Georgiana well enough to say."

"I'll bet she is. And she's making it so obvious that nobody will believe she's guilty."

"I don't know," I said. "I just don't know."

"But it's possible."

I shrugged. I didn't want it to be. I liked Georgiana Peach.

"Okay," Sister said, "back to business. Mouse, did you find any letters to the American Genealogical Society?"

I looked up. "No. Why?"

"This last one is to a Mrs. Winona Grafton at the American Genealogical Society, thanking her for being so prompt in her reply and saying she is looking forward to their meeting in Atlanta March twenty-sixth. That's next week."

"Let me see," I said. "When was it dated?"

"The thirteenth. That would have been the day before Meg came up here for the wedding."

I took the letter and read it. "This could be about anything," I said.

"Maybe it wasn't the judge, but the women from The Family Tree who were changing records and stealing stuff from the library."

"It's a possibility," I admitted. "I'm sure that national genealogical organization polices itself. Meg could have been reporting them."

"Another possibility is that Heidi Williams and Meg are both dead."

"I thought of that, too." I shivered.

Mary Alice got up and walked to the window that looked over the city. "They're in the caves under Vulcan, Mouse."

I knew that was ridiculous, but I shivered. I walked to the window, stood beside Sister, and looked at the iron statue on the mountain. He looked larger at night, lighted against the dark. Beyond him, in the east, Venus dipped to the horizon, bright and beautiful.

"Did you know Venus was Vulcan's wife?" I asked.

"I think I missed out on that crucial bit of knowledge."

"Well, she was. And he adored her. All her love affairs maddened him."

"Maddened him, huh?"

"He forged magic weapons against her lovers/'

Sister turned and looked at me. "We have got to get you on
Jeopardy."

"No. But listen, it's an interesting story. He's crippled because his jealous stepmother, Hera, threw him off Mount Olympus because he was Zeus's illegitimate son."

"Are you trying to tell me that dysfunctional families are nothing new?"

I thought about that for a moment. "You know what's wrong with us, Sister?"

"You're going to tell me, aren't you?"

"I don't think our family was dysfunctional enough. Just think about it. Mama and Daddy loved us both and never mistreated us. And we didn't have much money, but we didn't know the difference because nobody else had any, either. We weren't prepared for the harsh, real world."

"You've really had a harsh real world with Fred. 'Yes, Patricia Anne. Whatever you say, darling.' Besides," Sister dodged my elbow, "we were dysfunctional enough for you to steal my Shirley Temple doll."

"I never stole anything but a fork from Loveman's Tea Room, which Mama made me take back and apologize for." I was looking at Sister, but a flash of light at the corner of my eye made me look back at the window. To our right, well down the mountain, a light flashed intermittently.

"What's that light?" I asked. "I didn't think there was anything down there."

"There are some paths. Probably someone with a flashlight looking for a lost dog or something."

"They can't climb up here, can they?"

"Not unless they want to break their necks."

"But it could be done."

"No, Patricia Anne. It could not be done. And even if it could, that's why I have the burglar alarm."

"The alarm somebody knows the combination for, or Cassie Murphy wouldn't have Meg's briefcase."

"Quit worrying. Sit down and I'll get us some ice cream."

An hour later, as I was going to my car, I heard Sister say, "Mouse?" I looked back to see her silhouetted in the door. "You really are adopted, you know."

I hoped she could see my middle finger pointed heavenward.

Seventeen Fred was asleep on the sofa when I got home. I covered him with an afghan and went to take a shower, hoping the warm water would relax me. It didn't. I put on my robe and went to the kitchen for some milk. Fred didn't move. I took the milk back into the bedroom and called Georgiana's number.

For once, I didn't get the recording. "Hello," Trinity said.

"It's Patricia Anne. How's Georgiana?"

"They're terribly worried about her. The infection isn't responding to the antibiotics like they had hoped. I saw her at nine o'clock, but I'm not sure she knew who I was. The doctor told me to come on home, they would call me if there were any changes." Trinity's voice broke. "I don't think she's going to make it, Patricia Anne."

"Oh, Trinity, I'm so sorry."

A deep sigh. "So am I."

"Trinity? I need to ask you a question. How much work did Meg do for Georgiana? Do you know?"

"Not exactly. Meg didn't come to Birmingham often, but with all the computers and faxes they've got now, she didn't need to. I think she did a pretty good bit of research for her in South Alabama and Mississippi."

"Before she came to the wedding, did she say anything about doing some work for Georgiana while she was here?"

"She said Georgiana was going to be out of town. I remember that because I thought she might stay with her. Why?"

"Just wondering."

"You can't think Georgiana had anything to do with Meg's death? If you are, you can erase that thought right now. Not Georgiana. I'd trust my life with her."

Perhaps that's what Meg did, I thought. But I had already upset Trinity too much. "Of course.I wasn't thinking that," I lied. I told her to call me if Georgiana's condition changed (a nice euphemism for if she died), and had hung up when I remembered I hadn't asked her about Castine Murphy.

Mary Alice and I had come to several conclusions. First and foremost was that Meg had discovered that Georgiana Peach and probably Castine Murphy, too, were doctoring family pedigree charts and either blackmailing clients or charging large amounts to change them. They were also changing, stealing, or tearing out pages from the records at the courthouse that would disprove their claims. Was this some kind of federal offense? Stealing public records? Probably. And blackmail certainly was. Meg had left the computer disk to show the changes in the charts, as well as the letter about the meeting with the woman from the American Genealogical Society.

"Stool pigeon," Sister said with satisfaction. "She was about to squeal and they doffed her."

"You mean offed her. You've been watching way too much of the old movie channel," I said. But it made sense. "What about Judge Raskins, though?"

"He knew Georgiana and Cassie had killed Meg and was about to squeal and they doffed him. Besides, Georgiana was still enamored of the judge and jealous of Jenny Louise."

I looked at Sister. "They doffed him while he was dinging Jenny Louise? Come on, Sister. Where do you get these words?"

"You doff your hat. Same thing."

"Then Heidi Williams? Where is she, and why does Georgiana want her?"

"Heidi knows the truth about Meg's murder, and she ran because she knew her life was in danger."

"They might doff her."

"Of course."

I had to agree that that made sense. "But what about Meg's voice on the answering machine? The 'Help me'?"

"Wrong number," Sister announced in her don't-bother-me-with-such-trifles voice.

"I'll call Bo Mitchell in the morning and run this by her."

"Don't run it by anyone else," Sister warned.

"I'm not anxious to get doffed," I said. And that was the way we left it. A lot of strings were hanging loose in this version, strings that would trip us up in a minute.

"And how in the hell did we get mixed up in it?" Sister asked.

"Just being polite."

I roused Fred from the sofa and he shuffled down the hall, grumbling that I had awakened him. In two seconds flat, he was snoring again. As for me, I lay beside him all night, drifting in and out of a light sleep. At six o'clock, I was up making coffee, and by seven I was out walking Woofer.