Roots of Murder (35 page)

For the lazy journalists who wanted a hot story dictated over the phone, Nell merely referred them to the wire service. There were a few colleagues she talked to, giving them the inside story because they had done similar favors for her.

Harold Reed called around lunchtime. “Good reporting,” he told her. “I can promise your front page has managed to eclipse last night's debate as a topic of conversation around here. Buddy is taking a poll right now to see which position he should take on this.” He added quickly, “Don't quote me on that. I need this job until the kids are through college.”

Nell promised it would remain their secret. Then they talked about the property story. “A lot of them seem unfair, but only on the borderline of illegal,” she told him. “Just applying the rules a bit tighter. And even for the illegal ones, I'd guess by now the statute of limitations has long run out.”

“I'm going to scour the books. There might be some federal statute about violation of civil rights we can bring up,” he said.

“But how do you prosecute a grave?” Nell asked. “There are
second-generation
people around, like our esteemed mayor, who are going to be answering embarrassing questions, but most of those who did it are long gone.”

“It makes me angry. They were so blatant and
high-handed
.” He then changed the subject. “I talked to the judge about the request for a new trial date. Didn't get an answer, but I think he'll at least keep their chain short.”

“I appreciate that. I just … want to get it over with.”

“I understand. Keep me informed if anything happens. You've stirred up a major hornet's nest here.”

Nell hesitated, then told him about her suspicions the killings might be linked to the property theft. “Michael Walker was going to law school. One of the properties taken belonged to a woman by the name of Hattie Jacobs, and Dora and Ella stayed with her. What if they were going to interfere?”

Harold Reed was silent for a moment. “That would get rid of the statute of limitations problem. It's a good theory. But after all this time is there any chance of finding out who did it, let alone proof?”

Nell admitted it was unlikely. He repeated his request to keep him informed if she found anything, and they rang off.

As she was getting ready to pick up Josh and Lizzie from school, she got a visit from the sheriff.

He started right off with, “Didn't trust me with the dental records or photos, did you?”

“I felt the District Attorney's office would be better able to handle them.” Nell was glad she was standing up, not sitting behind her desk with the sheriff's bulk towering over her.

“Miz McGraw, I was a skinny little
fifteen-year
-old kid when those poor souls were killed. You can't think I had anything to do with it, can you?”

“Murder? No, I don't suspect you of that.”

“Just of being a good ole boy racist enough to make Everett Evens seem like a pinko commie?”

“Not at all. No one could make Evens look like a pinko commie.” They stared at each other, then Nell said, “I don't know which way the political winds blow for you. Today's front page has angered a lot of powerful people in this town.”

“I don't let politics get into murder cases,” he said with a steel tone to his voice.

“I'm glad to hear that, Sheriff. A change from one of your predecessors. Did you know Bo Tremble?”

“Have to tell you I didn't like reading that stuff about him. He was a good man, had a son who was slow and he spent a lot of time with that boy, never made him feel different.”

“The banality of evil. Good men can do horrendous things. He had to know they never got on a bus. If he didn't murder them, he covered it up.”

“I don't like to think a law man could be so lawless. Don't go saying things about people with no proof.”

“With fifty years gone, what proof will there be, save for three skeletons and someone who lied about where they were?”

“Not much, likely. I respected Sheriff Tremble, started as a deputy with him. One thing I learned from him is the law is the law. And to respect the law more than any one man.” He was silent, as if daring Nell to argue.

“Sheriff, I have to pick up my children.”

He nodded. “Okay, brass tacks. I don't want to learn things about murders my department is investigating on the front page of the newspaper. You can tell Harold first, but you tell me second. If I gotta go put handcuffs on Bo Tremble's headstone, I won't like it, but I'll do it. You got that?”

“I can live with that, Sheriff Hickson.”

“Some advice I know you don't want. Don't go around being some ballsy Yankee lady and stirring up more hornet's nests than you can slap away with your hands.”

“I just report the news, I don't make it.”

“Just remember messengers get shot at. Now go get your kids and you call me immediately if there's anything you think Harold Reed should know.”

Nell gave him a minute to get out of the building before she headed to her car. His sheriff's car was still parked in the City Hall lot as she drove past. She wondered which speech he was giving to Mayor Hubert Pickings.

Her encounter with the sheriff had left her children waiting outside school for longer than was acceptable.

“Where were you?” Lizzie greeted her as she got in the car. “I told Janet I'd email her something the second I got home. She's probably waiting now.”

Nell had expected even her children to be consumed by the front page, but they seemed wrapped up in their own world, Lizzie fretting about email she claimed was a joint homework assignment she and Janet had to have in by Monday. Josh was excited about a field trip his science class would take to Horn Island in a few weeks.

Nell listened to her children talk about their school day, the mundane details that occupied them, a far place from bones and murders. She was relieved they hadn't been affected by the front page of their … mother's paper. It used to be their parents' paper. Lizzie fumed about going to the library and was slightly mollified by promises she could instantaneously get on a computer at the Crier office.

When Nell returned, everyone was on the phone, both Dolan and Pam giving the same answer, one Nell had scripted earlier. Josh headed over to the library just in case he'd missed any shark books, and Lizzie
bee-lined
to the computer on Jacko's desk.

Just as she sat down, Jacko came back. He waved Lizzie to stay on the computer and came into Nell's office.

“Alberta Bonier had to sneak me out the back door,” he told Nell. “It seems everyone whoever owned property here wants to look at the records. She finally had to claim they were doing inventory and no one was allowed in.”

“Inventory in the records department?”

“She was working fast. I suggested that claiming the records were
off-limits
until the FBI got through with them might be a better excuse.”

“Did you find anything else before you were hustled out?”

“A few more things on Pelican Property. They did most of the buying after around 1963, almost like they
out-muscled
the others.”

“It makes sense. Wasn't the sheriff one of them? He could probably arrest anyone who underbid them.”

“Most of what they bought, they later sold to Andre Dupree. They made money on it, but he got a good deal in the process. That's more or less how he got all the property for Back Bayou Estates, the Country Club, and the marina back there.”

“Which is more or less how he made his fortune,” Nell commented. It wasn't Aaron but his father, she reminded herself. And even the father hadn't stooped to directly cheating people out of their land, although he appeared to have benefited from those who did. Nell wondered how much the elder Dupree had known—was there really a way he couldn't have had some inkling of what was going on? But more importantly, she wondered how much the son knew. “Good work. Maybe next week, we should focus on Pelican Property and what they did.”

“Might not help Aaron Dupree much in his run for mayor.”

“After the way Hubert Pickings disintegrated at last night's debate, I think it would take a lot more than that to keep him from winning. Go ahead and work on that story for next week. When my daughter gets off your computer.”

“I did find out something else interesting today.”

“Oh?”

“But I'm not supposed to know this, so you get to figure out how to divulge the info without getting either of us in trouble.”

Nell nodded for him to continue.

“I think I mentioned that Alberta Bonier has a sister who works at the bank?” Another nod from Nell kept him going. “They usually meet for lunch, and I've been in the habit of joining them. I happened to mention the Jones boys and she let slip that their garage is mortgaged to the hilt. Only if they owned it free and clear would it cover the bail.”

“They lied to the sheriff?”

“Looks that way. Or they just forgot those second mortgages they took a few years ago. With a lien on the property, it no longer will work to keep Junior out of jail.”

“Jacko, that's the best news I've had all day!” If it hadn't been too out of character for her, Nell would have jumped up and hugged him. “Stay here. The sheriff told me to call him earlier. I'm going to call him.” She quickly grabbed the phone and dialed the number of the sheriff's department. It took her several minutes on hold, but she was finally connected to Sheriff Hickson himself. After a quick hello, she said, “Sheriff, you did check out whether the Jones brothers' garage had any liens on it before accepting it for bail, didn't you?”

“Probably not,” he admitted. “Don't have the manpower to search every one of these. Why, you heard something?”

“You might want to inquire at Costal Bank.”

“I might just want to do that. You want me to call when I round him up?”

“If the rumor I've heard turns out to be true, I'd appreciate having it confirmed.”

“That I'll do. You stay out of trouble now, Miz McGraw.” He put the receiver down.

“There is a god or a goddess,” Nell told Jacko. “He didn't even ask where I got the information.” That seemed like a perfect way to end the day. It was only a little after four, but Nell told everyone to go ahead and pack it in.

“I think I've answered more calls today than I did the rest of the week,” Pam commented. Then she added, “But a lot of them were good, saying it was about time we told those stories.”

Nell called Marcus, while Jacko contacted Carrie, to tell them the office was closed in case they might come by. According to Jacko, Carrie was working on a story about the debate, getting various reactions as well as snagging a tape of it to transcribe the comments the candidates had made. Marcus was chasing leads on where the displaced property owners might have gone, to see if any of them were still alive and willing to tell the story. “I should have something for you on Monday,” he told Nell. Then he told her he was going to be at Joe's most of the evening, so if she or any of the other staff cared to join him they were welcome.

Nell pried Lizzie off the computer—with promises they were going home and she could immediately get on the computer there—and they were out the door.

Somehow Josh had found another shark book at the library. Nell waited while he checked it out.

She was relieved to find no rocks had been tossed through the windows of her house, nor dead things left on the front steps. Am I really that worried? she wondered as she opened the door. Save for the Jones brothers' clumsy attack on Josh, the hornet's nest she'd stirred seemed content to do little more than buzz angrily.

Lizzie shot past her to the computer. Josh kept her company in the kitchen, albeit with his head buried in the latest shark book. It was a quiet evening at home; they even managed to find a nature show on TV that wasn't too gory for Lizzie's sensibilities.

Shortly after she'd finally convinced Lizzie that even though it was a Friday night, she still had to get to bed before midnight, the phone rang.

So I'm finally getting a crank call, Nell thought as she picked up the receiver. With Josh and Lizzie both home, she knew they were safe.

“Nell,” Sheriff Hickson said. “You gotta get down here. They firebombed the Crier building.”

nineteen

“Don't open the door
to anyone but me. Understand?” Nell instructed Lizzie and Josh.

“Is the Crier gone?” Josh asked, a waver in his voice.

“I don't know how bad it is yet, honey.” To give him the reassurance she could, Nell said, “It's brick and stone, so it won't burn well. I'll be safe; most of the sheriff's department is there.” Suddenly Nell wondered, is the firebomber on his way here? She didn't want to take Josh or Lizzie with her, but she worried about leaving them. She told herself, one look, then back here. If the firebomber was after her, he would have come to her home first. She added, “This is your chance to stay awake on a Friday night. If you see or hear anything that worries you, dial 911 immediately. I'll be back quickly.”

At the door, she repeated, “I'll be back soon. Don't open the door unless it's me.”

Nell rushed into the night and drove to the Crier office, parking illegally on the square. There were a number of cars, and she pulled behind the last one. Nell had little experience with fires. She was relieved there were no towering flames visible as she came around the cars.

She was less relieved, as she trotted across the square, to notice two fire trucks
parked in front of her building, with other cars haphazardly parked around the big red trucks.

“Can't go there, ma'am.” A young deputy tried to stop her.

“That's my building!” Nell told him, ducking around his outstretched arm. She added, “Sheriff Hickson called me.”

Getting closer, she saw there was still smoke coming from the front of the building. Several firemen were standing around, watching the conquered beast for any signs of life.

She recognized Fire Chief Mike Zellner and ran to him. He and Thom had been fishing buddies, so she knew him from occasional dinners with the catch of the day. He was a big man, not given to talking much.

“How bad is it?” she breathlessly asked him.

“Nell,” he said, turning to her. “You got lucky. Bastards threw it and ran. From the look of it, they meant to toss it through a window, but it hit the wood and bounced. Burned outside the building mostly, not in. Door caught fire, would have taken the building, but we got here in time. Water damage inside, but it was that or let it burn.”

It was the most he'd ever said in one whole speech to her. “God, Mike, I thought I might get here and see flames shooting out of the top. Was anyone hurt?”

“One guy stubbed his toe getting the hose out, that's all I know of,” he told her.

Sheriff Hickson found her. “Big mess,” was his comment. “You'll be wading through paper for a few days.”

“Who did this?” Nell asked. To soften what had sounded like a demand, she added, “Any ideas?”

“After that front page, about half the town.”

“Nothing like a small suspect pool,” Nell sarcastically commented. Then she asked the obvious question: “Why are you here and not the police?” This had happened within city limits.

“Got the call. Decided it'd be faster to just get moving on it.” He gave Nell a sidelong look. “Besides, I suspect Whiz Brown has ceded jurisdiction over anything near the Crier building.”

“Do you think he did it?” Nell asked. She hoped such a direct question might get a direct response.

“Whiz ain't got the balls, pardon my French. We did pick up J.J. a while back, so the timing is suspicious for the Jones boys, and they're stupid enough to have not gotten it through the window.” Not giving Nell a chance to ask the question, he continued. “Yeah, we're running them down, ain't gonna wait for the police to give 'em a week to wash their hands. Gonna be a Jones family reunion at the jail tonight. They'd have to grow another brain to be smart enough to hide all the evidence. ”

“If they didn't do it?” she queried.

“You riled the mayor. He's been comfortable all his life, but now it looks like discomfort is comin' his way. He's hard up for money; had too much fun at the casinos over in Biloxi and now he's paying for it. Now, that's a rumor, so don't you go quoting me on the front page,” he said sharply.

“I only print what I can verify,” Nell said.

“Can't sell the property with that polluted factory on it, only thing he can sell is being mayor. Looks like he's about to lose. Might make a man desperate. But I can't see him doing it himself and he don't have the money to hire anyone for this kind of stuff. Then, of course, there's all them other names you blazed across the front page. Might have pissed off—pardon my French—some murderers.”

“My, I've been a busy girl, haven't I? But men who murdered fifty years ago probably aren't up to firebombing buildings, if they're still alive. Besides, going after me isn't going to do much about you on their trail. Assuming you are.”

“Already called the FBI to consult. Doing what I can, Miz McGraw, but fifty years is a long time.”

“And as for the property stuff, they would have been better off burning down those files. Scaring me off won't stop others from looking. Plus the statute of limitations has passed.”

“Still, when you piss people off, you just never know what you might run into.”

“That almost sounds like a threat, Sheriff.”

He turned to look directly at her. “Nothing of the kind, Miz McGraw. Just stating a fact.”

Nell was prevented from questioning him further by the arrival of Dolan. The greeting he exchanged with the sheriff told Nell that Sheriff Hickson had called him as well. Probably at the same time, since Dolan lived on the other side of town. Nell guessed the sheriff felt some man should be around. Jacko was the next to arrive. She couldn't tell if the sheriff had called him, too, or if he was plugged in enough to have this news quickly reach him.

Nell gave them the information she'd gotten from the fire chief.

“I'll stay here,” Jacko volunteered. “Someone's got to guard the building.”

Nell started to protest, but the sheriff added, “That's fine. I'll leave a car and one of my deputies here as well. They won't be back, but anyone could get into your building, and you don't want that.”

Nell glanced at her watch. She both needed to get back to Josh and Lizzie and she needed to take care of everything. She told the circle of men around her, “My kids are home alone and I need to get back there. What else needs to be done here?”

“You go on back to your kids. We'll take care of things,” the sheriff decided for them. Get the little woman home, Nell heard in his undertone.

“This is my paper and my building,” Nell retorted angrily. “I can't do it all, but I'm a big part of any ‘take care of things.' Understand?”

The sheriff obviously thought he was doing her a favor. The look on his face told her he didn't appreciate having his favors rejected. “Guess I'll let you handle it, then.” He walked away.

Dolan cast a quick glance after him and then one at Nell. He was silent, then merely said, “Damn, I wish I could get inside and get all the insurance information.”

Nell dug in her purse and found her wallet. In it was a card with the name and number of their insurance agent. “I guess we should call him tonight. We're awake, why shouldn't he be?”

Dolan took the card from Nell's hand. He'd had the most contact with the insurance people. As he dialed, Nell and Jacko walked toward the building. The door, old oak, was badly burned and would have to be replaced. Several of the windows were broken, both from the fire and the water pressure.

“Weather is supposed to clear tonight,” Jacko said, following her gaze. “We can get those boarded up tomorrow.”

“What a mess. What a fucking mess,” Nell said.

He seemed unfazed by her cursing. “Yeah, it sure is. And this is just the outside.”

“It's going to be a marathon of replacing everything from computers to copy paper to get the paper functional again.” Nell felt exhausted. She half regretted her feminist streak. She could have played the little woman and been on her way home by now.

She headed back over to Mike, Jacko following. “When can we get back in?” she asked him.

“Fire seems out, but we need to check everything. You got a key? Door's gone, but you might prefer we open what's left rather than chop through.”

Nell dug the key out of her purse and gave it to him.

He continued. “A few more hours. Just to make sure nothing's smoldering and no structural damage.”

Dolan rejoined them. “Ten a.m. tomorrow, we have an appointment. Better to see the damage by daylight, I guess.”

“Can probably get in by then,” Mike told them.

They all stared at the building scarred by fire and water.

Finally Dolan said, “Who would have done this?”

“I don't know. Who have you pissed off lately with your hard driving business deals?” Nell said. She meant to relieve tension, but she was embarrassed to find herself starting to cry. It was something Thom could have pulled off, but her voice was dry and strained. She almost reached out to hold Thom's hand. But Thom wasn't there, just these men she knew only from small pieces of her life. She stumbled away, trying to gain control, hastily wiping her sleeve across her face.

The silence from the group was awkward and strained. Mike finally said, “Nell, why don't you go on home? There's not a lot you can do here now.”

With a final wipe of the sleeve, Nell turned back to them. “Yeah, why don't I do that,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. Taking a deep breath, she added, “I'm sorry, it's just been a rough … few months.” She was acutely aware of the smoke still heavy in the air, and that she stood outside the group of men. Everything rushed in: Thom's death, the attack on Josh, the burning of the Crier, the
long-ago
deaths found in the woods; they all coursed through her head. “Let me get home,” she managed before she stumbled away from them.

After a few feet, she felt a hand on her elbow. Dolan, guiding her. Nell let the tears steam down. They said nothing until he had handed her into the car. “You going to be safe driving home?” he asked.

Nell nodded, then managed to say through her tears, “Yeah, I'll sit here for a bit. Thanks.”

“Okay, get some rest. It'll help.” He softly closed the door for her and went back to the other men.

Nell watched the scene, which was blurred by tears. She tracked Dolan until he became another vague shape. She wondered if they were shaking their heads at the little woman breaking down.

“Goddamn it!” she cursed. “I've got a fucking right to break down!” She gripped the steering wheel as tightly as she could. “Thom! Why the fuck aren't you here?”

After the outburst, she sobbed. Then, remembering her promise to get back home, she roused herself, roughly swiping the sleeve across her face. She started the car, wiped her face one final time, and pulled out.

When Nell got home, there was a big boat of a car in the driveway and every light in the house was blazing.

She felt too exhausted to go inside and face what was waiting. How in hell had Mrs. Thomas, Sr. known that Josh and Lizzie were alone? It was likely Mrs. Thomas had heard about the fire—for all Nell knew, the sheriff had called her, as she'd been a sensible little woman who'd stayed at home—and come over to make sure her grandchildren were safe.

Nell fumbled in her purse for a tissue and gave her nose a loud blow. She didn't bother checking her face in the
rear-view
mirror; it had to be a mess, and knowing would do little to aid her composure. Closing the car door noisily enough to give them fair warning she was back, Nell crossed the lawn—she'd had to park in front of the house instead of in the driveway.

Both the lights and her
mother-in
-law's countenance were blazing when Nell entered.

“Nell! How could you leave the children alone?” she demanded.

“Mother, I had to see how much damage there was.”

“And leave them here? It would have been better if you'd taken them with you than left them here alone.”

“I didn't know if anyone was hurt,” Nell said. “I didn't want them to see that.” She had covered a few fires and she knew burned bodies were a grisly sight—and smell. Her
mother-in
-law, without the benefit of experience, probably thought a little blood might have been the worst of it. With Josh and Lizzie there, she didn't feel like spelling out in graphic detail what they might have witnessed.

“You could have brought them with you and left them in the car.”

Nell realized she could have done that—it certainly would have been preferable to this scene—but she hadn't thought of it, equating home with safety and wanting her children safe. “I didn't know how bad it would be. I didn't want them there.” She wasn't going to concede Mrs. Thomas's point.

“They need to have a mother who puts them first! Who isn't more obsessed with digging old bones, rehashing old wounds, and flirting with new men!”

“Goddamn it! That's not fair!” Nell yelled back. As she'd had no control for her tears, now she had none for her anger.

“Watch your language!”

“They've heard it before. From Thom! We've got a lot more to worry about than goddamned words!”

“Yes, we do. And that's why they're coming with me,” Mrs. Thomas announced imperiously.

“Coming with …? No, they're not!”

“Joshua has already been attacked. The Crier building burnt down. Are you going to keep them here until this house is burned, too?”

Nell felt frozen. There was too much truth to her
mother-in
-law's words for her to ignore. What if the sheriff hadn't captured the Jones brothers and they were on their way here? What if, when the morning light came and whoever had tried to burn the Crier realized they hadn't succeeded, they decided on a different method of attack? With a crushing sense of defeat, Nell realized it would be close to impossible for her to get the Crier back in shape and be with Josh and Lizzie as much as she needed to be. Sending them off with Mrs. Thomas was galling, and she wondered if it would damage her already fraught relationship with them.