Lilies That Fester (9 page)

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Authors: Janis Harrison

BOOK: Lilies That Fester
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The photograph had landed facedown against my jeans, but I reached for the cassette instead. It was a Kenny Loggins single release titled “Whenever I Call You ‘Friend.'” I was familiar with the song, could even hum a few bars, but the lyrics eluded me.
I turned the photograph over, and for the time being, ignored the figure, taking in only the background. To the right of Stephanie was the corner of a white-porch railing, to her left a flower garden. She looked directly into the camera. I looked directly at her and took a shaky breath.
When I was about her age, this could have been a picture of me. Not the hair or the eyes or the facial features, but the triple chins, the thick waistline, and the fat thighs. I did as her father had asked and looked into Stephanie's eyes. A veil of love had distorted Vincent's vision if all he saw was his daughter's kind and trusting soul. What I saw was an overwhelming depression that stooped her shoulders and kept her smile from being genuine. This was the image of a very unhappy young woman. It was as if I'd lived in her body. I knew her pain. I'd heard the hurtful remarks made by people who thought they were being helpful, and others who didn't care how their comments cut.
I stared at the photograph. Stephanie and I had never met, but in a sense, we were well acquainted. Her eyes pierced mine with a look I'd carried most of my life.
“Poor girl,” I murmured. We were kindred spirits. I thought the McDuffys had asked for my help because of what
Carl had told them. But perhaps, the couple had hoped I'd understand their daughter's anguish.
But what could I do? Lois had said she thought Stephanie had died from a heart attack. Had her weight been a contributing factor to her heart problems? What kind of change had the McDuffys meant? How had Stephanie been led astray?
From my purse, I took the original note that had been taped to the outside of the envelope and reread it. Once again I was caught by their reference to my solving two murders. Had Mabel and Vincent found the person who'd led their daughter astray? My heart lurched. Had that person not wanted to be discovered?
Bodies? Funeral home?
The car door opened, and I jumped in surprise.
“—bathroom was a disgrace,” said Effie as she settled herself in the seat. “I always feel as if I've been exposed to a dreaded disease when I use public rest rooms.”
“Effie, I want you to call that funeral home—”
“The Eternal Rest Chapel, dear?”
“That's right. I want you to ask when you can deliver the sympathy bouquets for the McDuffys' service.”
“Where shall I make this call?”
I nodded to the booth outside the gas station. “We'll do it from there, okay? I'll be right beside you, listening to what is said.”
Effie studied me pensively. “I won't ask why now, but later, I'd like an explanation.”
As I got out of the car, I murmured, “So would I, Effie, so would I.”
I bought a newspaper from the rack and tucked it under my arm. While I looked up the funeral home number, I rehearsed Effie on the dos and don'ts of subterfuge. “Carl used to say that the big boys—”
“Big boys, dear?”
“The professionally trained investigators. Carl used to say that they like to answer a question with a question. Since we don't come close to their expertise, I think we'll do best to say as little as possible. Try to sound casual. Keep your wits about you.”
“Good gracious, it's not as if I'm calling the Pentagon for classified information. I phone my local funeral home often, asking about different services. I'm sure the people at the Eternal Rest Chapel are used to this kind of inquiry.”
I took a deep breath to settle my nerves. Effie was right. It was a simple inquiry, except I was afraid of the answer. What if the call Bailey had gotten had been about
human
bodies? But why would
he
get a call?
My stomach muscles were tied in knots as I picked up the phone and poked in the numbers for the funeral home. At the first ring, I handed the receiver to Effie, who was as calm and composed as I was frazzled.
I put my head close to hers and heard a man say, “Eternal Rest Chapel. This is Anthony.”
“Anthony,” said Effie, “when can we deliver the sympathy bouquets for the McDuffy service?”
“McDuffy?” He gasped. “How did you—I … uh … I …”
Suddenly Bailey's unmistakable voice boomed in our ears. “Anthony didn't catch your name, but I understand you're inquiring about a service. How may I help?”
Effie opened her mouth, but I pressed her arm and shook my head.
“Hello,” said Bailey. “Who's calling? I know you're on the line. Speak up! Why are you asking about the McDuffys?”
I took the phone out of Effie's hand and quietly hung it up. “Let's get out of here.”
This time I had Effie slide behind the wheel, while I slumped in the passenger seat. “Just drive, Effie, but steer clear of the funeral home, and we might as well stay away from the hotel, too, at least for a little while. I'd rather not run into Bailey just now.”
“Why do you think your Mr. Bailey came on the line? Does he have a connection with the funeral home?”
“I don't know.”
“Why didn't that nice-sounding Anthony answer my question? And who is this McDuffy?”
“Please, Effie, I need to think. If you'll drive for a while, then I'll try to answer your questions. Okay?”
She nodded and turned on the ignition. Like a pro, she shifted gears, and we shot out of the service station lot into a stream of traffic. Seeing that she was more than capable at the wheel, I leaned back and mulled over the situation.
I still didn't know who Bailey Monroe was, but one thing was for certain, he hadn't liked the question about the McDuffys. A tiny smile teased my lips. I'd outmaneuvered him. I'd learned that the McDuffys were of interest to him, otherwise why had he come on the line? His voice had been cold with authority. His tone let me know that he was accustomed to having his questions answered, and he expected results.
I sank farther into the seat and opened the local newspaper to the front page. Near the bottom was a news brief that made my skin prickle.
 
COUPLE FOUND DEAD AT BOTTOM OF RAVINE.
(Names being withheld pending notice to family.)
 
I stared out the window at the trees that were a kaleidoscope of earth tones, and felt physically ill to my stomach. I
could be wrong that the dead couple was the McDuffys, but I didn't think so. They had been in plain sight at the hotel for four days, and then had suddenly disappeared.
I knew so little about them and their daughter Stephanie. What I needed were solid facts. I sat up straight, coming out of my daze. “Where are we, Effie?”
“You said drive, so I'm driving. We're on Highway 65 headed north. I'd rather travel the open road than creep along in Branson's stop-and-go traffic. I'd planned to intrude on your thoughts before we got to Springfield.”
A highway mileage sign loomed ahead. I skimmed over the first three towns, honing in on River City. We were a little over an hour away from home, but the scheme I was hatching didn't include entering the city limits. What I wanted was outside of town. In the “outer reaches” of Spencer County.
Wearily, I closed my eyes. I was tired after my sleepless night, and the breeze coming through the open car window was soothing. I'd stalled Effie's questions for the time being, so she'd turned on the radio and was humming happily.
When we were closer to our destination, I planned to stop and call Robbee. By now the contest flowers would have arrived, and he'd be wondering where I was. I also needed a Spencer County telephone book, so I could look up the McDuffys' address. I wanted to dig up some personal information on the McDuffy family, and what better place to start than in their neighborhood.
I fell asleep with the words “dig up” in my subconscious. I dreamed I was in a flower garden, and Bailey was Adam to my Eve. His fig leaf covered his essentials. My “leaf” was a shovel. If I lowered it to scoop the soil, I exposed the stretch marks that were like battle scars that told the tale of how misshapen my body had been. But if I didn't use that shovel, truth and justice would be buried forever. I urged Bailey to go away so I could uncover the facts, but he only smiled and shook his head.
Frustration woke me, but I found I was eager to get on with my plan. I looked out the window and saw familiar landmarks.
“Once we crest this hill, Effie, you'll see a McDonald's. Pull in, and I'll buy you a snack.”
“I need their rest room worse, dear. My water pill is working overtime.”
I touched her lightly on the arm. “You've been a good sport about this. After we finish our business inside, I'll try to explain what's going on.”
While Effie was in the john, I found the McDuffys' address in the local phone directory. After I'd made a note of the road name and number, I placed a call to the Terraced Plaza Hotel. I didn't want to personally speak with Robbee, so I left an ambiguous message. Since I was already connected to the hotel, and in light of the news brief in the paper, I asked if Helen was available. She came on the line all abuzz with information.
“You won't believe what's happened?” she whispered into the receiver.
It was on the tip of my tongue to say, “The McDuffys have been found,” but I stopped myself. “Tell me,” was all I said.
“A DO NOT DISTURB sign has been hung on Mr. and Mrs. McDuffys' door. I've asked around, but no one knows who put it there or when.” She took a deep breath. “But the big news is that the police were here. They towed the McDuffys' car out of the hotel parking lot.”
“Did they give a reason as to why they were taking it?”
“I asked that same question, but the officer in charge told me it wasn't any of my business.”
“I guess we'll have to wait for an answer.”
“I don't like it. I've got this creepy feeling that something bad has happened.”
I wanted to tell Helen that her intuition was grounded in
reality, but I kept my mouth shut. I'd learned from Carl that an ongoing investigation could be jeopardized by a careless remark. For some reason, the McDuffys' deaths were being concealed. Before I said something I might regret, I told Helen I'd talk with her when I got back to the hotel, then ended our conversation.
Effie wasn't happy that the McDuffys had lived on a gravel road. She drove her little black car as if the tires were made of marshmallows, and each time a rock pinged against the undercarriage, she winced as if she'd felt the blow.
“How much farther, dear?” she asked.
“That last mailbox had 981 painted on the side. We want 1004, so it'll probably be a few more miles. Houses are spaced far apart here on County Line Road. This is cattle country. Most of these farms are anywhere from three to six hundred acres.”
I smothered a sigh. Idle chitchat, when time was slipping by. I wanted to ask Effie to step on it, but she'd been a real trooper. She'd listened carefully to everything I'd told her about the McDuffys. I'd read her both notes and the three messages. I'd shown her Stephanie's picture, but her car didn't have a tape deck, and she'd never heard of Kenny Loggins.
I looked over my shoulder at the mailbox we'd just passed. “We're getting closer. The next box will be the one right before the McDuffys'. Why don't you turn in there, and we'll have a chat with their neighbor?”
“I'm still not sure why we made this trip, dear. What kind of information are we seeking?”
“Anything is better than what I have.”
“What kind of questions will you ask?”
“I don't know.”
She glanced at me. “And you say you've done this kind of thing before?”
“I used to help Carl with his investigations. Since his death, I've delved into a couple of matters on my own.”
“And that's what the McDuffys are referring to in their note to you?”
“Yes.” I admitted it reluctantly.
“You don't sound very enthused, dear. If you made an investigation, you must have been interested in discovering the outcome.”
“I do care, Effie, but it's more than that. Since Carl's death, I've gotten involved in some rather dangerous situations. When someone needs my help, I can't seem to stop from getting involved.”
“Then don't try. Bloom where you're planted, dear. Why analyze and criticize your abilities? Perhaps you have a God-given talent for this kind of thing. Your husband must have been proud of you or he wouldn't have expressed his pride to the McDuffys. And it sounds to me as if they needed someone who cares. Grief affects everyone differently. You help others, and the McDuffys wanted your expertise to ease the pain from having lost their daughter.”
“It's too late to ease their pain. I'm sure they're dead.”
“From what you've told me you could be right.”
“Now more than ever, I want to find out what's going on, but I have more questions than I have answers.”
“But isn't that part of the thrill? The unearthing of the facts? If everything were laid out for you, where would be the satisfaction?”
I smiled weakly at the little woman. “Bloom where I'm planted, huh? Even if it feels as if my roots are sometimes struggling through rock?”
Effie chuckled pleasantly. “Adversity builds character, dear,” she said, applying the brake. “This mailbox is 1003, which should be the one before the McDuffys'. Shall I turn in here?”
I saw the name “Thorpe” on the mailbox and nodded. She drove down a tree-lined lane. The white clapboard house, when it came into view, looked as if it had been designed and constructed by a ten-year-old. Judging the multiple rooflines, I'd guess four different additions had been made to the original structure. The house sat on a knoll, and the land gently sloped away to pastures with a lake in the valley. White geese swam lazily on the glassy surface, while cows grazed their fill on the spring grass that fringed the water's edge.
It was a classic picture of peace and tranquillity, and Effie sighed with appreciation as she parked the car. “If I lived here I'd hang a swing from that maple tree and never grow tired of the view.”
The door at the back of the house opened, and a woman struggled out with a loaded laundry basket. She wore a pair of faded blue jeans and a green-checkered shirt. Her face was broad, her hair a mop of brown curls. I hopped from the car and strode across the grass toward her, dodging the bicycles, tricycles, and wagons that littered the yard. She had seen me, acknowledged me with a nod, but with the cumbersome load, had kept up a fast pace to an already crowded clothesline.
“You've been busy this morning,” I said in greeting.
“Every morning,” she grumbled, dropping the basket to the ground with a solid plop. “We have eight boys, and the laundry is unreal. I've never been able to decide if we're the cleanest bunch in the county or the dirtiest.”
“Eight boys? Wow. Talk about being outnumbered by the male population.”
She chuckled. “We also have Harry, the dog, and Bob, the cat.”
“How old are they?”
She raised an eyebrow as she grabbed the corner of a purple-and-lavender-striped sheet. “Harry and Bob?”
I laughed, taking hold of the sheet and helping her pin it to the line. “And you keep a sense of humor, too. No, I was thinking of your boys.”
In a singsong tone, she recited, “Fifteen, twelve, eleven, nine, the twins are seven, five, and two. Wally, Billy, Tommy, Timmy, Jerry and Terry, Tony, and Patrick. That's my tribe.”
I pulled a matching pillowcase from the basket. “I saw the name on the mailbox. You're Allison's sister-in-law?”
“That's right. I'm Lavelle Thorpe, and you're Bretta Solomon.” She ducked her head, but I saw her smile. “I've heard a lot about you, but I discount most of what Allison says. I've read about you in the
River City Daily
newspaper, and my neighbors, Vincent and Mabel McDuffy, have spoken of you.” A frown creased her forehead. “I thought you were at that floral thing in Branson? In fact, Vincent and Mabel were looking forward to meeting you.”
“I had to make a fast trip home, but I'm going back to Branson. I received messages from the McDuffys, but our paths haven't crossed yet. If you have time, I'd like to ask you a few questions?”
“About what?”
“Like I said, I've gotten messages from the McDuffys but they didn't tell me exactly what they wanted. I wondered if you knew.”
“No, but you could have knocked me over with a feather when Vincent came by and told us he and Mabel were going to Branson. Since he retired from trucking cattle to market, they
rarely set foot off their property, totally content to be with each other.”
Lavelle smiled sadly. “Stephanie's death was a blow to them, but they had each other. When Mabel goes, I don't know what Vincent will do. He has no other family, and he cherishes Mabel.”
She sighed. “I don't know what I'll do either. They're good neighbors—good people but a bit overly cautious. It took them two weeks to plan this trip. A few days before they left, Vincent was by and mentioned that he thought he ought to have the electricity shut off at his house. He was afraid there might be a short or something while they were gone. I reminded him that Missouri weather is unpredictable, and we could get a cold spell. With no heat in the house, the water pipes might freeze. He was even going to sell their chickens, but I told him my older boys would look after the flock.”
I felt a chill against the nape of my neck. Had Vincent gone to Branson knowing that he and Mabel would be in danger? Had he suspected that they might not be coming home?
Lavelle was still talking. “—assured him that I'd keep an eye on everything.” A note of envy crept into her voice. “Imagine just packing up and taking off. No dishes to do. No dirty clothes to contend with.” She gave a pair of jeans a brisk shake. “But I'd wash clothes for the rest of my life if it meant I could keep each and every one of my boys healthy.”
“You're thinking about their daughter, Stephanie?”
She nodded. “What a waste of a kind and talented woman. I felt sorry for her. She didn't have a social life. All she had were her pictures.”
“Pictures? She was a photographer?”
“No, more like an artist, but not with paints or colored pencils. She used dried flowers that she pressed, then glued to
mats before framing them.” Lavelle glanced at Effie's car. “If you have a minute, I'll go get the one she gave me?”
I assured her I had plenty of time, and she went off to the house. I continued to hang up the clothes, a relaxing task I hadn't done in a long, long time. When the back door opened, I turned, expecting to see Lavelle, but the gaping doorway discharged a mad rush of boys headed directly for Effie and her little car.
The older woman's jaws dropped, and her eyes widened with astonishment. In a flash the kids had circled her car, fingering the cloth top, touching the side mirrors, leaning in the open window to get a glimpse of the minuscule interior. Seeing that she had an appreciative audience for her pride and joy, Effie climbed out to point like a proud parent to all her baby's sterling qualities.

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