Deep Down (I) (25 page)

Jessie walked quickly through the first room about the history of the town itself. Pioneer artifacts, rifles, mannequins dressed in calicos, buckskins and coonskin hats. Vern seemed to favor lifelike tableaus. She noted one small corner area focused on the early Cherokees. Vern must have studied their customs. Could he have used some of his knowledge to make Seth look guilty? She’d have to look at that display later.

The second larger room had a sign over the doorway, The History of Sang, Here and Beyond. A rather grand title for so small and crowded a space. She entered and scanned the room. Nearest to the entry were lots of sang samples in glassed-in cases and displays of various sang-digging tools. Drew had once said it would be impossible to compare the size and pattern of Mariah’s head wound to all the poachers’ spades, but maybe he could start with these.

As in the other room, glassed-in mannequins in various garb on slightly elevated platforms stared down at her. In the first display case, a stunning, crimson silk Chinese costume Peter might have donated dominated the case with cards telling about Imperial jen-shen. When she didn’t see a display with the “big, fierce-looking thing” Ryan had described, she went to the fourth display, an empty case that had only a very tall, sheet-draped male mannequin.

She skimmed the series of printed cards for Display #4. Yes, this was where the “Siberian Ginseng Hunter” had been, but the costume was gone. Perhaps Vern had been using it lately.

Leaning close, she read the explanation and description as carefully and quickly as she could. Her pulse pounded; her knees began to shake.

The wild ginseng hunters of Siberia roamed the forests of Northeast Asia until at least the 1930s. With their characteristic oversized height and girth, they were dedicated to their task from infancy to old age, walking hundreds of miles through trackless wilds. To mark their passage, they left broken branches, so their “brothers” would know the area had already been explored.

They lived wild and solitary lives, carried a long stick to part leaves and grass, and wore the distinctive clothing seen in this display: a leather apron to protect themselves from dew, a head covering of birch bark, which made their head look large and misshapen, and shoes of tarred animal skins. Badger skins sewn together hung behind them on a belt, which let them sit on wet ground, and they slung
badger fur with dangling claws over their shoulders to protect themselves from rain.

They viewed ginseng as sacred, the source of universal energy and invisible life, possessing a supernatural force. If anyone dared to steal it, the thief would be found dead with huge, blurred tracks and dead ginseng leaves around him. Although no murderer was ever caught, it’s believed the forest hunters smashed their victims’ skulls with their bone spades, and sometimes made ritual incisions on their faces with long, flexible knives they carried to cut roots from the ground or with the badger claws attached to their garb.

Jessie realized she was on her knees before the case with her hands raised on the glass, as if she worshipped at some strange shrine. She had slid down as she’d read the cards and left sweaty, smeared handprints on the glass. She’d been holding her breath; now she gasped in air, panting like a trapped animal.

Staring, horrified, at her own distorted reflection in the glass, she knew her mother’s murderer had to be Vern. He’d taken the idea and the costume from this case. He had been furious with her mother, stalked her, planned to kill her, but couldn’t face her, couldn’t bear to let her know it was him, so he’d worn the costume. Later, maybe when he was stalking Cassie because she’d seen her mother before her death and feared Mariah had told Cassie that Vern was angry with her, Tyler had caught him in a photo frame.

But even before that, almost at her moment of death—maybe when her mother had seen the beast Vern had become in more ways than one—Jessie had psychically
glimpsed him, too, somehow through her mother’s eyes. She had to get to Drew, tell him all this, tell him the costume was still missing.

But as she scrambled to her feet, she realized where Vern might be keeping it. This was the fourth tableau—Display #4. Vern had those big boxes in his office closet labeled Sang #4.

She tore out of the museum, thudded downstairs, into Vern’s office. She dragged over the closest chair so she could manage the big boxes. Badger fur hadn’t made sense before, but it did now. Vern had tried to put the blame on Seth by using animal claw marks instead of a sang-digging knife. He figured no one would realize it was badger claw marks instead of a bear’s. He’d tried to turn the town against Seth and someone—maybe even Vern, if he was quick enough—had burned down Seth’s house.

The top box was heavier than she expected. She almost went off balance but managed to heft it onto Vern’s desk. It displaced air that blew his neat paper stacks awry, but she didn’t stop to rearrange them. As she lifted the big box lid, she gasped to see within distinctive grayish-reddish fur. The badger skin—no, a series of skins sewn together—were folded next to a long, double-edged knife. Worse, badger claws were still attached by the paws, just as with a bear rug.

Evidence! Proof that Vern Tarver was a murderer! And the smell from the skins: it was so reminiscent of the strange scent she’d encountered in the Hong Kong ginseng market, which must actually have emanated from her nightmare of her mother’s death. She had to let herself remember all that again, because maybe the vision went even further. Instead of thrusting it away, she should let it come and maybe glimpse Vern in that costume.

She lifted down and opened the next box: thick-soled shoes wrapped in some kind of oilskin and a hump-shaped hat made of tree bark, though it wasn’t birch. No wonder the creature seemed so tall and left blurred footprints. No doubt the other boxes held some sort of bodysuit and mask, maybe even the sang spade that had smashed her mother’s skull—perhaps Beth Brazzo’s, too. Surely, Vern had some motive for wanting to eliminate the power drink woman, too, but right now, they had to get him for her mother’s murder.

Jessie was desperate to put these boxes in the trunk of her car before Vern returned, then get out of here to find Drew. Or should she put them back in place, then call Emmy to have her track Drew to get him to arrest Vern here with the proof on his property? No, she couldn’t stand to be near him now that she knew the truth.

She gasped when she heard the front door—which she’d locked—open and close. Vern called out, “Jessie, I’m back. You okay? Why’s the door locked and the Closed sign out?”

When she rushed to get the heavy boxes back up on the shelf, she dropped the top one. The badger skins spilled out on the floor as his footsteps crossed the front room and headed down the hall.

25

J essie ran out of Vern’s office to meet him in the hall. Trying to look calm, she stood in the middle of it to block him from going directly into his office, where he’d see the box open, the spilled badger skins and his once neatly stacked papers in disarray on his desk.

“Oh, Vern, glad you’re back. I bought some sang from the Enloe brothers,” she said, forcing a smile, “but I got such a roaring headache I needed to take some aspirin and sit down for a couple of minutes, and my purse was in your office so—”

“Sure, that’s fine. Wait till you see the grade A stuff I got from Addie McGillan,” he told her, giving a big wooden box a shake. It sounded loaded with roots. “She’s been hoarding them for her old age, as if it were a retirement fund in a bank. Man, Peter will want a couple of these babies for his precious root-in-a-bottle collection.”

He took a step toward his office; her mind raced. It took everything she had not to scream at him that he murdered her mother, but he might attack her. She had to get the evidence to Drew, get Vern locked up.

Then it hit her. She could lock him in the sang storeroom
right behind him. “How about you put it in here, so I can take a look at it?” she suggested. “I saw how neat your desk is, and I’ll bet that sang’s dusty.” She unbolted and opened the storeroom door for him. With a nod, he carried the box in. Feeling both horrified and justified by what she had to do, Jessie slammed the door and shot the bolt.

His voice came as muffled as it was mad. She hoped the single, small vent would not let him be heard outside. He pounded on the door, shouting her name. “What the hell’s wrong with you?” she made out as she threw her bag—her mother’s bag—over her shoulder, shoved the badger fur garment back into the open box, and carried it to her car.

She put it in her trunk and went back for the other boxes. Again flipping the Closed sign to the outside, she looked up and down the street and sauntered to her car, though she wanted to run to its protection. She not only had the proof who killed her mother, but she had the murderer locked up! She had to get to Drew, bring him here, let him take over before someone let Vern out. Thank God, it was only a short distance to the sheriff’s office. Even if he wasn’t there, Emmy could call him on his two-way.

She was behind the wheel of her car before she saw a small, folded piece of paper jammed under her windshield wiper. Not Drew’s handwriting, she thought, so whose? She unlocked the door, leaned out and pulled the paper inside. Slamming the door, she locked herself inside before she unfolded the note. In large print, it read,

Jessie: Sheriff and me are heading to the tree where we found Mariah’s body. I found more proof there of who killed her. He said that you should meet us at the old logging road. We’ll go in together.—Seth

At least she knew where Drew was now. With her proof and whatever Seth must have found, they’d have an airtight case. She just hoped Vern would keep until she told Drew. Once Drew saw the costume in her trunk, he might even want to head back to town to arrest Vern right away.

Trying not to speed the way she wanted to, thankful she didn’t pass any other cars on the road, Jessie headed for the old logging road entrance under Snow Knob.

Cassie saw Drew’s police vehicle parked beside the road as she drove to drop off Pearl at Sarah’s house. It was still there on her way back into town. So he’d gone after Junior Semple, but evidently hadn’t found him yet. At least she knew he wouldn’t see her speeding. She was in a big hurry, only slowing down when she hit the Deep Down limits.

She parked in front of the police station and rushed in. Emmy Enloe was there, but not Ryan. Why she’d thought he’d run right to Emmy after talking to Pearl, she wasn’t sure. Maybe she’d been afraid that his idea of parental visits would mean he’d be settling down with a new wife who could help him take care of a visiting child, that’s all. Pearl had sure enjoyed the time when Emmy had taken care of her yesterday.

“Cassie,” Emmy said, rising from behind the counter and her computer screen. “You look all het up. What is it?”

“It’s truth and consequences time, I guess,” she told the younger woman as she leaned against the counter to keep her legs from shaking. Evidently unsure what was coming, Emmy stood her ground behind her desk. “The reason I warned you about Ryan Buford the other day—it’s ’cause last time he was here in Deep Down, he took me for a real ride.” Cassie bit her lower lip and pressed her fists on the
countertop. Her car key bit into her palm. “We were lovers, but he deserted me the minute he found out I was pregnant. He was real bitter—blamed me, said I was trying to trap him when he was the one who trapped me. Into wanting him. Into being really stupid to think he’d stay with me or take me with him.”

“Ryan is Pearl’s daddy?” Emmy gasped, then, wide-eyed, covered her mouth with both hands.

“I swear to God. You’re the first one I’ve told, including Jessie and Drew—and Pearl. I know you’ll be thinking you can change him, but who knows that he doesn’t have a girl in every port—you know what I mean.”

Emmy looked like she’d puke. “Has he—been to see you this time, too?” she asked.

“Only skulking around and today talking to Pearl about ‘parent visits.’ I told her he was a salesman the other day, but I’m gonna tell her the truth, after I tell him to keep away from us again. You know where he is?”

“I—yes, kind of,” she said, finally coming around her desk toward the counter. “He was going to go back to the Fur and Sang Trader, for another quick game or two of billiards, he said. He planned to pick up his gear at Audrey’s, then maybe go out to work at the old logging road under Snow Knob. I told him about that photo your friend Tyler Finch took, warned him something weird was in the area, but he said it must just be someone fooling around.”

“I s’pose you’re upset with me bursting your bubble about him,” Cassie said as she took a couple of steps toward the door, then turned back. She was relieved that Emmy was not screaming at her to get out of here. “It’s not just sour grapes, I swear it,” she told the teary-eyed girl. “It’s
just he can be like day and night, like the way he was so sweet and then turned on me. I found out too late he thinks Deep Downers are pretty dumb, ‘a few cards short of a full deck,’ as he put it. Well, I gotta go. I’ll try all three places. I realize you’ll tell Drew what I said, and that’s fine. I should of told him long ago for sticking with me like a good friend.”

“Yeah—he’s great. Gave me this job, let me make a mess of things while I learned. He’s out looking for Junior Semple, thanks to you.”

“I saw his Cherokee way down by Castors’ place. Thanks for not killing the messenger of bad news, Emmy.”

“I admit I kind of picked up on how Ryan thinks most of us are a bunch of hillbillies, but I been lying to myself—lying with him, too, the rat. Guess you protected him too long, but I won’t make the same mistake. I think he’s fixing to move on real soon anyway.” She shook her head. Tears spilled down her cheeks; she looked hopping mad. “And here, I was hoping he’d come back if they started to build the roads and properties he’s laid out, after the Sunrise Mountain area’s cleared.”

“Cleared? Of trees? Logged? You mean just a few strips of it, for the single road and a few properties.”

Emmy shrugged. Tears dripped off her chin, but she didn’t bother to wipe them away. Even with the counter and Ryan separating them, Cassie felt so close to the girl she could have hugged her. But she had something big to do.

“See you later,” she said and went outside. She walked right down to Vern’s Trader. The window sign said Closed. Where was Jessie, on her first day of working here?

She climbed back in her truck, so she’d have it if she needed to make a fast getaway after facing down Ryan at Audrey’s B and B. It was about to be prime time at the Soup to Pie now.

Though she knew it was right where she hid it under the seat, she leaned down and touched the rifle and box of cartridges before she pulled out.

Drew’s stomach churned as he listened to Junior’s diatribe. He cursed a lot of people, including him. Peter Sung’s name was in the disjointed hysteria, too. Drew could not believe an independent mountain man like Junior Semple would crack like this, but he knew damn well that people’s childhoods could damage them for good—or bad. He had to get Junior out of here, get him help. He’d have to go at this another way.

He drew back the flap of the hunter’s blind and started to untie his feet. It took him a minute to realize that Junior was finally making a confession, but it was so clearly under duress, he wondered if any of it would be admissible in court. Maybe he’d gone too far, but for Jessie and Mariah, he guess he might even go farther.

He strained to hear what Junior was saying. “Peter, he promised to buy the sang, gave me the sticks, see? Promised me a hunt dog—keep the sticks away from dogs, ’cept the ones steal sang. Year of work, poachers get them, take it all…”

Drew loosed the man’s hands from the other pole but left him cuffed. He sat him up. “You’re saying Peter Sung got you those varmint sticks?”

“Yeah—to protect the sang he’d promised to buy. Wants all the sang he can get, at any price.”

“What else did he want from you in return for the sang money, bail money and the hound?”

Finally, the man’s eyes seemed to focus. “’Nother crop of virtual wild, soon as possible.”

“Did he ask you to keep an eye on Mariah’s sang count?”

“She came to count mine, that’s all.”

“I need more, Junior!”

“I told him I thought her numbers weren’t so good this year.”

That might have panicked him, Drew thought. Maybe he’d tried to buy Mariah off, and she’d refused, or even threatened to go to her superiors. But if Junior wasn’t Sung’s lackey, would the rich, elegant businessman stoop to getting his own hands dirty with murder? With arson, and trying to pin the blame on Seth? Of course, Beth Brazzo would be in his way, too, with her grandiose, competitive plans to buy lots of local sang.

“But nothing else?” he asked, his face close to Junior’s. “You didn’t follow Mariah to see what else she counted?”

“I didn’t hurt her!”

“Did you tell Peter Sung where she said she was going next?”

“He asked me. Yeah, guess I did.” He looked dazed. Was he only telling him what he wanted to hear, or was it finally the truth? “Didn’t think nothing of it,” Junior went on, his voice rising again. “Listen, I need a head doctor, not a jail cell. Told you all I know. If Peter did more, it wasn’t with me. I can’t go back to jail!”

Drew helped him to his feet and wiped one of his folded shirts across his sweaty face. His eyes and nose were running, but Drew had no intention of uncuffing him. As if he’d escaped from the gates of hell, Junior hoofed it back
to the road, suddenly the model prisoner. The only thing was, if Junior had to testify in open court, would he tell the same story he’d revealed in a closed box?

Jessie was surprised to see that the old logging road entrance to the forest under Snow Knob was closed off to cars. Bright orange plastic tape stretched across the entry where a No Vehicles sign hung. So where had Drew and Seth parked? She did see Ryan Buford’s truck and what looked like surveying gear laid out on the ground. He evidently heard her car, because he appeared from behind his truck to wave and walk toward her.

“Sorry about the barrier today!” he called as he approached. He wore a white hard hat and a bright orange jacket that matched the tape. “You might know the day I decide to do this final positioning, it’s Grand Central Station here.”

“I’m supposed to meet Sheriff Webb,” she said as he leaned down to talk in her window.

“That’s what I mean. The sheriff and Seth Bearclaws drove in a little bit ago—separately. I asked them both to park out of my way in the brush farther back, just for the day,” he explained, pointing toward the north. “By the way, I took your advice and told Seth that I admired the Seminoles and Cherokees. He didn’t say much, but he nodded.”

“That sounds like him. But where are they?” she asked, looking far past him.

“They just walked into the forest, not more than—” he glanced at his watch “—six, maybe seven minutes ago. I figured it was you driving in, because they said if you came quick enough, you should follow them. I think they were really eager to retrieve something.”

“Can I leave my car right here? I’m sure I can catch up with them.”

“Sure. I’ll bet you can because Seth wasn’t moving too fast and they had some stuff with them. A camera, backpacks, not sure what else.”

She turned off the ignition and unlocked the door. Ryan opened it for her. She considered getting the badger skin out of the box in the trunk to show Drew and Seth when she caught up to them, but decided not to risk something happening to it or having to explain it to Ryan. She’d thank him later for giving her the tip about Vern having that Siberian ginseng hunter costume. Maybe he’d even have to testify against Vern. Right now, she needed to make tracks. At least she knew exactly where they were going.

Pulling her mother’s denim bag over her shoulder and locking her car, she thanked Ryan and sprinted for the forest path she knew all too well.

Drew took Junior to the office to book him before taking him into Highboro. Emmy looked up from squinting at the computer screen. “Oh, you got him!” she cried.