Over Troubled Water: A Hunter Jones Mystery (7 page)

She didn’t seem angry. Just blunt.

Skeet was back.

“How about just keeping the guns away from him a while longer?” he said to Rondelle. “We know this shooter used an AK 47, so we don’t need to check those out.”

“Who’s here?” Russell Carson called from the hallway. “Rondelle, do you know where I put my glasses?”

Tall and scrawny, he blinked as he came into the living room.

Taneesha was pretty sure he hadn’t changed clothes since the day before. He had just taken off the short-sleeved navy blue twill shirt with CC for Carson’s Cleaners embroidered on the pocket. He was barefoot, and his dark blonde hair was going in all directions.

Rondelle found his glasses for him, and he wiped the lenses with his t-shirt before putting them on. Then he looked at the two of them and asked in a flat voice, “What have you found out?”

“Not much, but we’ve got some questions we’ve got to ask all the next of kin,” Skeet said. “Are you up to talking with us a little while?”

Russell nodded.

“Yeah. Whatever.” He seemed indifferent. “I need something to eat. Can we do this in the kitchen?”

Rondelle said. “I’m glad you’re hungry. There’s all kinds of good food in here. Let me just heat something up.”

“When did you last see your wife?” Skeet asked when they were settled around the kitchen table.

“Monday night about eight,” Russell said after a long pause. “She went into town to stay with her mother.”

“She and her sister have been taking turns doing that when the woman who looks after their mother takes her time off.” Rondelle explained while she prepared a plate for him. “Mrs. Jackson had a bad stroke about six months ago. I saw her while she was at the hospital, and she might as well be in a nursing home for all she knows about anything, but they’ve made a big deal of keeping her at home.”

“So you were here by yourself after she left?” Skeet asked Russell.

“Yeah, by myself. I tried spending the night there with her the first time and sneezed all night. I never have been able to spend much time there, even when China and I were dating.”

“Cats,” Rondell explained. “He’s allergic. I don’t know why they think it matters to poor old Mrs. Jackson whether they keep her cats or not. Like I said, it was a bad stroke. She can’t even recognize her own children, so why would she recognize a cat?”

“I don’t even know why people have cats,” Russell said. “These cats have to stay inside all the time, and there’s this stuff called cat dander…”

“Even if they got rid of the cats, the whole place would need a heavy duty vacuum,” Rondelle added.

“What about yesterday morning?” Taneesha asked. “Did you go out to work?”

“I didn’t have any jobs scheduled,” Russell said. “But there’s always work to do. I was up early working on one of the septic tank pumps, and I drove over to the landfill with some old carpeting.”

“Did you talk to China at any time yesterday morning?”

“You mean on the phone? No. I called her a little after seven just to say hello, but I didn’t get an answer. I guess she had already left for that stupid bicycle ride.”

He gripped the arms of his chair.

“I wish she hadn’t ever gone to that gym at all,” Russell said as he got up and paced around the room. His voice rose to a high pitch.

“I wish she hadn’t ever set foot in that place. She was pretty just the way she was, but they had her thinking she just couldn’t get skinny enough. She was hardly eatin’ anything.”

Tears were streaming down his face. Suddenly, he hit the kitchen wall with his fist so hard that a clock fell off the wall.

“Easy there, buddy,” Skeet said, getting up. He put his arm around Russell’s shoulder and said, “Let’s go outside for a minute. Get some fresh air.”

“I guess Skeet knows how Russell’s feeling,” Rondelle said to Taneesha when the two men were outdoors. “I mean with his wife getting killed, too. How’s he doing taking care of that little girl of theirs?”

“He’s a good father,” Taneesha said, and didn’t add any more. She didn’t want to talk with Rondelle about Tamlyn Sykes Borders’ death. She wanted to think about how she was going to bring up the subject of China Carson’s pregnancy once Skeet brought Russell back indoors.

She got up and replaced the clock. She noticed two small framed pictures side-by-side that were crooked, and went to straighten them. Up close she saw they were ink drawings with pastel colors, little mice dressed up in chef’s hats and aprons. Each one was signed “China Rose.”

“I didn’t know that China was an artist,” she said to Rondelle.

“I don’t know if you’d call her a real artist. It was a hobby,” Rondelle said. “She sure spent a lot on those frames. There’s a bunch more of them in their bedroom. I told her once she ought to draw those things the right size to fit the frames you can buy at the drugstore. She’d make them whatever size and shape she pleased, and then they had to be custom framed.”

Taneesha thought to herself that Rondelle didn’t like her late sister-in-law.

As for the drawings, they weren’t the kind of art Taneesha liked – entirely too cute and old-fashioned – but she could see that they were well done and that China Carson had talent. She felt annoyed at Rondelle for diminishing that talent.

“I think she had a real gift,” she said. “I’m sure Russell is going to treasure these, so it’s good that they were professionally framed.”

“Well. Whatever.” Rondelle said with a shrug. “You can tell Russell thought she hung the moon, but I need to change the subject. We need to start planning the funeral. Do you have any idea when they’ll be letting her body be brought back down here?”

“It should be by this afternoon,” Taneesha said. “You can go ahead and call the funeral home. They know how to handle things from this point.”

Russell had calmed down when Skeet brought him back into the kitchen.

They had decided in advance that Taneesha would be the one to bring up China’s pregnancy. She couldn’t think of the right way to ask a man if he knew his own wife was pregnant, so she just stated the fact.

“We heard from the pathologist this morning,” she said. “They’ve finished the autopsy. Of course, we knew already that the cause of death was bullet wounds to the chest. The pathologist also said she was in the early stage of pregnancy.”

Russell looked blankly at Taneesha for a moment and then just seemed to withdraw. She thought he was about to start sobbing or hitting things again, but instead, he stared off into space, expressionless.

“I’m so sorry,” Taneesha said.

“They were sure about that?” Rondelle interrupted.

Taneesha nodded.

Rondelle looked upset for the first time, but Taneesha couldn’t read her face. Maybe she felt a loss. Maybe she was angry. It was hard to tell.

“Excuse me!” Rondelle said and went outside, letting the back screen door slam behind her.

In the meantime, Russell’s expression remained unreadable.

“Had China mentioned anything?” Skeet asked Russell, as casually as he could.

“Uh, yeah,” Russell said. “It wasn’t, you know, anything for sure. There were some other times that she thought she was and she wasn’t, you know…”

They sat silently for a while. Russell got a worried look.

“Y’all don’t have to go talking about that to the newspaper and TV, do you?” he asked Taneesha. “It happened before, I mean her being late and that stuff, and it never did amount to anything, I don’t even know why they’d be looking for something like that…” his face reddened. “That’s real personal.”

“I’ll talk to Sheriff Bailey,” Taneesha said gently. “I can’t see any reason for it to be public information now.”

She hesitated, and then said, “But I have to tell you if we make an arrest and make charges, it’s going to come out. District Attorney Sanders Beale will absolutely bring this up in the trial. It means a life was lost. He’ll charge the shooter with it. That’s a big issue with him.”

“Well, I don’t think it’s any of his business,” Russell said in a sullen voice.

When they were back in the car, Taneesha looked toward the back yard and saw Rondelle still standing there, arms folded, staring off into the distance.

“I think Rondelle was really upset about China being pregnant,” Skeet said. “That was the only thing that got to her.”

“Yeah,” Taneesha said. “What’d you think about Russell’s reaction?”

Skeet sighed.

“I don’t think Russell halfway knows how he feels about anything right now,” he said. “He’s just about crazy with grief. And you know, it’s hard when you lose somebody, and it turns out that they’re kind of like public property or that other people know things about them you didn’t know.”

Hunter gave up trying to take an afternoon nap on the sofa, made herself a cup of tea and went to her computer. First she looked at the newspaper’s website, which Mallory always changed right after the print paper came out. Then she started a chat with her best friend Nikki Daniello in Atlanta.

Nikki was a professional photographer. There was never any telling when she would be at home or online, so it was a matter of sending a message and waiting.

“Hey,” Hunter wrote. “Have you been reading about the awful shootings down here? I can’t believe that Sam would wind up with a case this big and complicated right when the baby is about to be born.”

She finished her tea. There was no answer after a few minutes, and Flannery was pouncing all around Hunter’s chair, eager to play.

Hunter went outdoors and threw the chewed up, wet tennis ball for the big German shepherd to retrieve over and over. It was a beautiful spring day and from where she stood, she could see a half dozen dogwood trees in bloom. The azaleas Sam had planted two years before were thriving. A brown thrasher zipped by.

Hunter took a deep breath and tried her best to appreciate the spring air—to be one with nature. It didn’t work. She wasn’t feeling poetic. She was feeling clumsy and out of sorts.

“Come on, Flannery,” she said. “Your daddy will take you out later on.”

She went back inside and checked her computer and found a lifeline. To her delight, Nikki had answered.

“I canceled my cable,” Nikki wrote. “So I just read about that crazy bridge shooting right now. I can’t believe you’ve had more murders down there. This sounds like the worst, though. Is Sam home at all with this going on? Who’s staying with you? You aren’t still working are you? Can’t Mallory and Novena run the paper? I was going to come down there when BB is born and take pictures. Do you and Sam need for me to come down there this weekend? I mean it. I can come down there if you need me.”

“I’m fine,” Hunter wrote back. “Sam’s busy, but he’s checking on me all the time. So is his mom, and Bethie’s a real help around the house. Mallory came over and spent the night last night when Sam had to be out late.

“Re the paper, I’ll take maternity leave starting next Wednesday. Tyler Bankston’s coming in on Monday, and he’ll run things until I come back. Miss Ellie says he’s pretending to be grouchy about it, but he really can’t wait. You know he’s been doing the accounting and writing the paychecks all along, and he’s had something to say about every issue, but he did let Mallory start a website. He likes her work, so I think they’ll get along fine.

“Anyway, the murders on the bridge were horrible. They closed school for today and tomorrow, so Bethie’s with Sam’s mother for now.”

Nikki took a minute or two to respond.

“Tell Mallory I love the website,” she said. “When is BB arriving?”

“The due date is ten days from now,” Hunter wrote back, “But my doctor says any day.”

“Is Sheriff Gunsmoke going to be with you for the delivery?” Nikki asked.

“Of course,” Hunter wrote. “And he claims to be able to charm little babies to sleep.”

“I hope he catches this crazy shooter soon,” Nikki wrote. “That’s scary.”

“I agree,” Hunter said, and despite herself she wrote, “You have to keep this a secret, but we got a really crazy letter at the paper that Sam thinks was from the shooter. He calls himself Abomination. He’s a horrible speller and tries to sound like an Old Testament prophet.”

“Why don’t you just come up here and have the baby?” Nikki wrote back. “You’d be safer in Atlanta.”

CHAPTER 5

Sam Bailey woke up early Thursday morning and left Hunter sleeping as he went to the kitchen to make coffee.

He was thinking that when terrible things happened communities were often at their strongest—beginning right away to heal themselves. That was what the visits with food were about – a way of saying “Even if the world’s gone mad, you’ve still got to eat.” That’s what the flowers on the bridge were about and even the ceremony of funerals. The shooter might be as uncivilized as a jungle predator, or worse, but civilization would fight back in its own way.

There were exceptions, he decided.

As he sat down with his first cup of coffee, he considered the uncivilized behavior of Andy Chapman, who wasn’t accepting any calls or sympathetic visits and had changed the locks to keep his own sister out.

Sam had already arranged for Aaron Twitchell to keep an eye on the house starting at 6:30 a.m. and if Andy left –to follow him and see if he was just going out for food or actually going to work. That would be the best possible thing, giving them ample time to get one of the doors or windows open without doing any damage and letting Sunshine inside.