Leftover Dead (11 page)

“I’m sure you’re very proud of them,” Wanda Nell said.

“I am. But nothing ever makes up for losing a child. Do you have any children?”

“Three,” Wanda Nell said, “and one grandson with another one on the way. I can’t imagine what it would be like to lose one of them.”

“I pray you never do,” Mrs. Havens said. “But you want to find that woman. Why, though? Are you writing a book about that poor girl her brother killed?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Jack said. “They’ve never tried anybody for the murder, and I’d like to see whoever killed her brought to justice. She deserves that much. We still don’t even know who she was.”

“Good luck to you,” Mrs. Havens said. “I get a letter from that woman every few years.” She sniffed. “She’s probably as drunk as Cooter Brown when she writes them. They’re so full of maudlin self-pity, you wouldn’t believe.”

“Do you still have any of those letters?” Jack tried not to sound too hopeful.

“I don’t. I can’t even believe I read them, but I do. And once I do, they go straight into the trash.”

“Do you have any idea where she is these days?” Wanda Nell asked.

“There’s always a return address. Like she thinks I’m going to write back to her and forgive her. I know it’s my Christian duty to forgive her, but the Lord strike me dead, I can’t.” Mrs. Havens sighed and shook her head. “The last one I got was about two years ago, maybe less. I seem to recall she was living in Tullahoma again.”

“Do you know what name she was using?” Jack asked.

“She married again at some point. The name on the return address was Baker. Other than that, I don’t know. I couldn’t tell you the address.”

“You’ve given us something to go on,” Jack said. “We sure do appreciate that. I’m very sorry that we caused you so much distress with all this. It’s not what we intended.” He and Wanda Nell stood.

“You couldn’t know,” Mrs. Havens said, looking up at them. “I know I should just let all this hatred go, but I can’t. I just hope the Lord will forgive me, come Judgment Day.”

“No one can blame you,” Wanda Nell said. “I know I’d have a hard time forgiving somebody for something like that.”

“You find that brother of hers, if he’s still alive.” Mrs. Havens’s tone was suddenly fierce. “Make him pay for taking some other mother’s child away from her. He should pay for what he’s done.”

“We’re going to do our best,” Jack said. “I promise you that. Thank you again for talking to us.”

Mrs. Havens rose from her chair, and Wanda Nell touched her arm. “We can see ourselves out. Thank you.”

Mrs. Havens’s gaze softened. “Bless you for your loving heart.” She took Wanda Nell’s right hand in her two misshapen ones and held it for a moment.

Wanda Nell had to hold back tears until she and Jack were out on the verandah again, the door shut behind them. Without a word, Jack pulled a handkerchief from his pants pocket and handed it to her. He wrapped his arm around her as she wiped her eyes and blew her nose. She tucked the handkerchief in the small purse she was carrying and extracted her sunglasses.

“This is tougher than I figured it would be,” Jack said, donning his own sunglasses against the fierce afternoon sun. He led his wife down the sidewalk and back to the car. Waves of heat from the pavement struck them as Jack opened first her door, then his. They stood, letting the hot air inside the car dissipate a moment. Jack got in and started the car, turning up the air conditioning.

Wanda Nell got in and shut her door. They sat there for a moment. “Feeling better, honey?” Jack asked.

“Yes. I just feel so sorry for her. How awful to lose a child that way.”

“Yeah.” Jack put the car in gear and drove down the street until he reached the next intersection. “It just breaks my heart to see someone living like that, after all these years.”

“Some things you just never get over.” Wanda Nell stared out her window, but all she could see was Mrs. Havens in her grief.

“Do you feel like getting something to eat before we drive back? I’m sure we can find a decent restaurant somewhere in town.”

“I’m not really hungry right now,” Wanda Nell said. “But I could use something to drink.”

“Okay, love.” A couple of blocks after they turned, Jack pulled into the parking lot of a convenience store and parked, leaving the car running. “I’ll be right back. What would you rather have, a bottle of water or a Diet Coke?”

“How about both?” Wanda Nell managed a brief smile.

“Sure thing.” Jack closed the door, and Wanda Nell sat, the cool air making her shiver suddenly.

Jack returned in a couple of minutes, carrying a plastic bag. Back behind the wheel, he opened the bag and extracted a bottle of water and then a Diet Coke. Wanda Nell took them both, tucking the soda in the pocket on the door. She twisted the cap off the water and drank deeply while Jack did the same.

“That’s better. I was pretty parched.”

“Me, too,” Jack said. “This heat really takes it out of you, and fast.” He set his bottle in one of the two cupholders between his seat and Wanda Nell’s. He backed the car out of the parking lot and headed toward the highway that would take them home.

“I wonder how many Bakers there are in Tullahoma,” Wanda Nell mused after they had been out of Water Valley and on the highway for several minutes.

“It’s a pretty common name,” Jack said, “but there shouldn’t be too many in a town the size of Tullahoma.”

“If she’s even still in town.”

“Yeah.” Jack sighed. “Tracking her down could take a while, unless we get a break and actually find her in town.”

“I bet we will,” Wanda Nell said with a confidence she didn’t entirely feel. “I tell you what, why don’t we stop for a bite to eat when we get back to town? Maybe some pizza, or a hamburger. One of those fast-food places on the highway. Then we can hunt up a phone book and just see how many Bakers there are.”

“Sounds fine to me,” Jack said. “Thanks again, love, for being with me on this.”

Wanda Nell smiled at him. They were silent for a few miles before she spoke again. “You know, seeing that house reminded me of Miz Culpepper. We’re going to have to talk to her again at some point. From the way she reacted yesterday, she must know something.” She shook her head. “But I’m wondering if it’ll be too much for her.”

“We do need to talk to her,” Jack said. “But I don’t want to upset her too much. I’m a little worried about her heart condition. I’d hate to be the cause of her having a stroke.”

“Yeah, me, too. Maybe we should talk to Belle first, see what she thinks.”

“Good plan,” Jack said.

They drove the rest of the way to Tullahoma in silence. Jack turned off the highway, into the parking lot of the pizza place. By this time the after-church lunch crowd was gone, and only a few of the tables and booths had occupants. Jack guided Wanda Nell to an empty booth.

Moments later a young waitress took their drink orders while they looked over the menu. By the time the waitress was back with their iced tea, they were ready to order.

“You think they might have a phone book we could look at?” Jack asked.

“Most places do,” Wanda Nell said, “even if they’re not out somewhere. Do they still have a pay phone here?”

“I’ll look.” Jack slid out of the booth. “I’m going to the restroom, and I’ll check it out.”

“Good idea. I’ll go, too.” Wanda Nell slid out, taking her purse with her.

When Wanda Nell came back to their booth, she found her husband poring over the phone book. “Where did you find it?” she asked as she sat down. “There wasn’t one by the pay phone.”

“I asked the waitress, and she brought it to me. There are eleven Bakers here in Tullahoma. I haven’t looked in the other sections yet.”

“Might as well start there,” Wanda Nell said.

“Do you mind if I start calling now?” Jack asked. “There aren’t many people around. And as long as we’re waiting for our food . . .” His voice trailed off.

Wanda Nell nodded. “Go ahead. I’m as curious as you are.”

Jack withdrew his cell phone from his jacket pocket. Consulting the phone book, he punched in the first number. When someone answered, Jack gave a spiel similar to the one he had used when looking for Pete Havens. Only this time he was looking for Sandra June Bates to invite to the reunion.

He had called the first four Bakers in the book, with no success, by the time the waitress brought their mini-pizzas. Wanda Nell loved pepperoni on a thick crust, and Jack loved Italian sausage on a thin crust.

After eating one of the four slices of his pizza, Jack picked up his phone again. He glanced at Wanda Nell.

“Go ahead,” she said. “Just don’t let your pizza get too cold.”

“I like cold pizza.” Jack smiled before he looked for the next number.

While Wanda Nell slowly ate the rest of her pizza, Jack alternated between phone calls and bites of pizza. He had called four more Bakers, two of them with no answer, when, on the next call, his body stiffened. Wanda Nell put down her last bite of pizza to watch.

“So you’re Sandra June Bates?” Jack said. “You won’t remember me, but I’d like to talk to you about the reunion and a few other things. Would you have time to talk to me and my wife today?” He listened for a moment. “Why, sure, we can come on by right now, if it’s convenient for you. Let me just double-check your address.” He read out of the phone book. “Right. Good, I know where that is. We’ll be there in less than ten minutes.” He ended the call and stuck his phone back in his pocket.

“We’ve found her,” Jack said, his eyes alight with excitement. “Let’s go.”

Jack paid the bill, his fingers drumming impatiently on the counter while he waited for their waitress to count out his change. “Thank you,” he said, pushing a couple of dollars back to her for a tip. She smiled.

“Where does she live?” Wanda Nell asked when they were in the car. Jack had been in such a hurry to get out of the restaurant, she hadn’t asked him before.

“In that new development, just off the highway, on the east side of town.” Jack pulled out of the parking lot and headed toward town. After a few blocks he took a cutoff that would save them a few minutes and take them to the east-west highway that cut through the middle of Tullahoma.

Traffic was light, and they made it to the entrance to the subdivision in about ten minutes. On the way, Wanda Nell had asked what the woman sounded like.

“Very quiet voice, not much intonation. Almost like she was drugged.”

“Or drunk?” Wanda Nell asked, remembering what Mrs. Havens had told them.

Jack shrugged. “Maybe, but she wasn’t slurring her words. Her voice just sounded flat.”

“Was she very curious?”

“Not really,” Jack admitted. “I thought it was a bit strange, but I wasn’t going to turn down the opportunity.”

The house where Sandra June Baker lived stood at the end of a cul-de-sac on one of the side streets a few blocks from the subdivision entrance. The houses here were modest, Wanda Nell noticed, and most of them looked pretty much alike. The yards were clean, and there were some trees. A few children were playing outside, but most of them were probably inside, where it was much cooler.

Jack stopped the car in front of the Baker house, checking the number he’d written down. A bungalow surrounded on three sides by young trees, it appeared well-maintained, with a neatly manicured lawn and white walls. There were a few flower beds, their contents drooping in the heat.

Wanda Nell stepped out of the car before Jack could open her door. She shut the door and followed him to the front of the house.

Jack punched the doorbell and held it for two seconds. Moments later the door opened, and a thin woman who appeared to be in her sixties gazed blankly at them. “Pardon me, ma’am,” Jack said, “we’re here to see Miz Sandra Baker.” He exchanged a quick glance with Wanda Nell. This woman appeared too old to be the woman they were trying to find.

Maybe she’s Sandra June’s mother-in-law
, Wanda Nell thought.

“Come on in,” she said, her voice dull. She turned and walked away from the door, leaving them to enter and then shut the door behind them.

The front door opened directly into what appeared to be the living room. The woman had gone from the door to flop down in worn armchair whose threadbare fabric spoke for the condition of every stick of furniture in the room. Wanda Nell found it depressing. The outside of the house looked so nice, but inside, it was pitiful.

At least it appeared to be clean, she was glad to note. She followed Jack to a sofa near the woman’s chair, and they both sat down. Wanda Nell shifted slightly, because she had sat on a spring. Her new position wasn’t much better, so she resigned herself to being uncomfortable.

The woman still hadn’t spoken again. She regarded them with blank, incurious eyes.

Jack introduced himself. “And this is my wife, Wanda Nell. I believe it was you I spoke to on the phone. Like I told you, we’re looking for Sandra June Bates.”

The woman stirred, a small, listless movement. “I’m Sandra June Bates. Baker now, that is.”

Wanda Nell had figured that Sandra June must be in her late forties by now, from what they knew about her, but this woman looked at least twenty years older. The skin around her eyes was puffy, and her complexion was sallow. Her hair had been bleached too many times, and it looked dry enough for kindling, as Wanda Nell’s mama would have said. The shapeless dress she wore appeared clean enough, though it had faded from many washings.

“Miz Baker,” Jack said. He hid his surprise pretty well, Wanda Nell noted. “When we spoke on the phone just a little while ago, I told you I wanted to talk to you about a high school reunion. I’m afraid I misled you a little.”

No expression of outrage appeared on Sandra June Baker’s face. Her expression didn’t change at all. She just stared at Jack.

“Do you remember, thirty-one years ago, a girl being found dead on the football field at the high school?” Jack spoke gently.