Digging Up The Dirt

CHAPTER 18

“I understand how you feel,” Dickce said, “but they’ll all settle down soon, especially when they see that Hadley is not going to rescue them from the loneliness of widowhood.”

An’gel snorted. “What a ridiculous phrase. Rescue them from the loneliness of widowhood. Spare me the purple prose.”

“My choice of words aside,” Dickce said, slightly nettled by her sister’s reaction, “the point is, Hadley’s only been back a short while. They’ll get over this silly competitiveness for his attention.”

“I certainly hope so,” An’gel said.

Dickce decided it was time to move on to a different subject. “When are you going to call Kanesha and tell her about our little talk with Mrs. Turnipseed?”

“Right now,” An’gel said. “I’m heading to the sheriff’s department since’s it not all that much out of the way. We might as well talk to her in person if she’s in the office.”

“Good idea,” Dickce said.

Moments later they pulled into the parking lot at the Athena County Sheriff’s Department. Inside they inquired whether the chief deputy was available. She was, and soon an officer ushered them into Kanesha’s office.

“Good afternoon, Miss An’gel, Miss Dickce.” Kanesha rose as they entered and waited until they were seated before she resumed her own seat behind the desk. “Have you got information to share with me?”

“Yes, we do,” Dickce said. “We went to talk to Mrs. Turnipseed this afternoon.”

“That was fast,” Kanesha said. “Did you find out anything useful?”

“Not directly, no,” An’gel said. “The woman kept saying everything wasn’t her business. According to her, she was out of town visiting her sister when Hadley and Callie left Ashton Hall.”

“She claims all that Hamish said to her was that Callie was gone,” Dickce added. “Then she said he never mentioned Callie’s name again for the rest of his life.”

“What did you think of her responses? Was she telling the truth?” Kanesha asked.

“She’s holding something back,” An’gel said. “We both thought so.”

“Yes, we did,” Dickce said. “The other thing is, her living room is full of antique furniture and things that we think came from Ashton Hall.”

Kanesha frowned. “Do you think she stole all this stuff?”

“No,” Dickce said. “We don’t think she’d be that stupid.”

“We think Hamish gave it all to her,” An’gel said. “But we’re wondering exactly why he gave it to her.”

“For years of faithful service?” Kanesha said, one eyebrow raised.

“One of the pieces—in fact, the very sofa that An’gel and I sat on during the visit—came from Hamish’s mother’s bedroom,” Dickce replied. “Both Hamish and Hadley were devoted to their mother, and I can’t see Hamish just handing over something of hers, even as a reward for faithful service.”

“Hamish was never known for his generosity,” An’gel said. “We approached him time after time to contribute to different charitable causes, and the most he ever gave at one time was fifty dollars.” She shook her head. “Getting that much out of him was a major triumph, I can tell you.”

“So if I understand where you’re going with this, you think he gave Mrs. Turnipseed all these valuable antiques and furnishings in exchange for her silence?” Kanesha asked.

Dickce and An’gel shared a glance, then they said in unison, “We do.”

“I agree that it could be a possibility,” Kanesha said. “Especially with what you’ve told me about Mr. Partridge’s stinginess and devotion to his late mother. I’ll keep that in mind.”

“I also asked Mrs. Turnipseed if she knew anything about the whereabouts of Callie Partridge’s housemaid, Coriander Simpson,” An’gel said. “Her answer to that was extremely nasty and rude.”

A faint smile crossed Kanesha’s lips. “I can certainly imagine. I’ve had experience with Mrs. Turnipseed before.”

“We both think the housemaid might know something useful,” Dickce said. “Do you know anything about her?”

“Only that she’s no longer in the area, as far as we can determine,” Kanesha said. “We haven’t found any family of hers, either, and that’s a bit odd.”

“We’ll check with Clementine,” An’gel said. “If anyone knows anything about her, Clementine will. I meant to ask her this morning but I forgot.”

“If you do get any leads, I know you’ll pass them on to me,” Kanesha said. “In the meantime, I have a little news for you.”

“What?” Dickce said eagerly.

“The police department investigated the ghost that was allegedly roaming around in Miss Hetherington’s house,” Kanesha said. “According to them, there was evidence of an intruder. The lock on the back door was forced, and several rooms were disturbed. They are checking with her lawyer for an inventory of property to determine whether the intruder took anything of value.”

“Sarinda had some jewelry handed down through her family,” An’gel said. “We believe she kept that in a safe deposit box at the bank, though.”

“Do you think it was just someone who heard about her death who broke in to steal?” Dickce asked. “Or was there some other purpose behind it?”

“A little too early to tell, frankly,” Kanesha said. “Until the police and the lawyer check everything and determine whether any valuables are missing, we don’t really know.”

“If it would help,” An’gel said, “Dickce and I would be happy to go through the house with the lawyer. We knew Sarinda for many years and are familiar with much of the contents of her home.”

“I will let the police department know,” Kanesha said.

“Thank you,” Dickce said. “Have you found out anything more about the remains from Ashton Hall?”

“Not yet,” Kanesha said. “We’re consulting with a faculty member from the college who is a physical anthropologist. He has extensive experience with Native American remains and funerary practices. He should be able to tell us pretty soon whether we’re dealing with an old burial or a comparatively recent one.”

“That’s excellent,” Dickce said. “We both hope it turns out to be a really old burial. Neither one of us wants it to be poor Callie.”

“Either way, there will still be a mystery about what happened to her,” An’gel said. “Someone knows the truth, and I frankly think it’s Mrs. Turnipseed.”

“Would you like for us to try talking to her again?” Dickce asked.

“At the moment, no,” Kanesha said. “I will send one of my deputies over to talk to her. He’s a good-ole-boy type, and he may have better luck with her. If he doesn’t get anywhere, I might ask you to try one more time.”

“We’ll be glad to,” An’gel said.

“Thank you, ladies.” Kanesha rose. “I appreciate you coming by. Now, I’m afraid I have to show you out. I’ve got another case to work on.”

The sisters rose. “Of course,” An’gel said. “We understand how busy you are.”

Back in the car, Dickce said, “I think we should put Benjy to work on finding Coriander Simpson.”

“Why so?” An’gel said as she put the car in gear and backed out of the parking space.

“He’s smart about computers, for one thing,” Dickce said. “I bet he will be able to turn up something as fast as the sheriff’s department can. Probably faster.”

“Maybe so,” An’gel said. “I suppose it can’t hurt for him to try.”

“As soon as we get home, I’m going to talk to him about it,” Dickce said.

Twenty minutes later, Dickce was seated at the table in Benjy’s apartment, and the two of them were talking about the search for Coriander Simpson.

“I’ll search for her online,” Benjy said. “It’s an unusual name, and that helps.” He thought for a moment. “Do you know whether she was a live-in maid?”

Dickce shook her head. “I don’t recall. It’s possible she was. I’ll check with Hadley, because he will certainly know.”

“Good,” Benjy said. “If she wasn’t live-in, though, I might be able to trace her through old phone directories. Do you know whether the public library has kept any?”

“I’m not sure,” Dickce said. “I’d be willing to bet, though, that they have. The Athena Historical Society has worked closely with the library for many years to document the town’s history. They’ve collected all kinds of things, and much of it is housed at the library.” She paused for a moment. “And if they don’t have it, you might talk to Charlie Harris about the college archive. It could be that the college has some.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. I’ll go to the public library first thing tomorrow and start there,” Benjy said. “I can check their databases, too. See if I can find anything about her that way. In the meantime, I’ll search tonight at home.”

“Thank you, dear,” Dickce said. “I have a feeling that if anyone can find Coriander Simpson, it will be you.”

Peanut, who had been napping on the floor between Dickce and Benjy, suddenly gave a woof, as if he agreed. Dickce and Benjy laughed. Endora, as usual asleep in Dickce’s lap when it was available, yawned and stretched. Dickce rubbed the cat’s head for a moment, and Endora purred.

“I guess I’d better get back over to the house,” Dickce said. “An’gel is going to ask Clementine if she knows anything about the woman, and I want to hear what she has to say.” She gently picked up the cat and set her on the floor. Endora shot her a reproachful look before stalking off, tail straight up in the air, to the couch. She leapt up, found her favorite spot, and curled up.

Dickce shared another laugh with Benjy. She patted his shoulder before she rose. “Dinner should be ready in about an hour. I’ll see you at the table.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Benjy stood to see her to the head of the stairs.

Dickce hurried across the back lawn to the kitchen door. She found her sister inside with their housekeeper. An’gel was talking while Clementine worked at the stove.

“. . . such a nasty woman,” An’gel was saying. “But I have to say she appears to keep a spotless house.”

“Mrs. Turnipseed,” Dickce said.

“Yes,” An’gel replied. “I was just telling Clementine about our visit with her.”

“Better you than me,” Clementine said.

“Have you asked yet about Coriander Simpson?” Dickce said.

“I was about to,” An’gel replied. She addressed the housekeeper. “Did you know Mrs. Partridge’s housemaid at all, Clementine?”

The housekeeper frowned as she checked a pot of boiling cabbage. “I can’t say as rightly I did. I don’t think she was from around here.”

“What makes you think that?” Dickce asked.

“I’m trying to remember,” Clementine said. “I didn’t see her much, except every once in a while at church. She kinda kept to herself.” She paused. “I believe somebody at church told me they thought she didn’t have any people around here.”

“I wonder how she came to be in Athena, then,” An’gel said.

“Where was it Callie was from?” Dickce said. “I know Hamish met her in Memphis. Was that where she was from?”

“I believe so,” An’gel said. “Do you think she might have known Coriander Simpson in Memphis?”

Dickce shrugged. “It’s possible. Maybe she had worked for Callie’s family, and Callie hired her after she married Hamish.”

“I can’t remember,” An’gel said. “That’s entirely possible.”

“I think that may be right,” Clementine said slowly. “I seem to remember something about Memphis and that Simpson girl.” She shook her head. “Can’t get it just now, but I’ll keep thinking on it.”

“Thank you,” An’gel said. “I think we’d better get out of your way now and let you finish cooking dinner. Dickce and I will set the table.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Clementine said. “I hadn’t gotten around to that yet.”

“I told Benjy dinner would be ready in about an hour,” Dickce said. “Was that all right?”

“That’s fine,” the housekeeper replied.

Dickce followed An’gel to the dining room, and they had the table set in a few minutes.

“Now that we’re done with this,” Dickce said, “why don’t we call Hadley and ask him what he knows about Coriander Simpson?”

“I did that while you were talking with Benjy,” An’gel said. “He was out, and the housekeeper didn’t know when he’d be back. She said she’d ask him to call us back.”

“That’s frustrating.” Dickce led the way out of the dining room and into the front parlor. “Let’s have a drink before dinner.”

“Yes,” An’gel said. “Your usual?” She walked over to the liquor cabinet.

Dickce nodded. “I wonder if he’s out with Arliss again.”

“Possibly,” An’gel said as she poured the Laphroaig. “He could also be out doing business related to Ashton Hall.”

“Of course,” Dickce said. “But do you think he’s seriously interested in Arliss?”

An’gel shrugged and handed Dickce her whisky. “If he hasn’t changed, then, no, I’d say he isn’t. But we’ll have to see. Surely after forty years he’s matured and grown out of that idle playboy phase.”

“I would certainly hope so.” Dickce sipped at her whisky.

An’gel drained her glass and set it on the tray on the liquor cabinet. “I think I’ll go up and read for a bit before dinner. I need to think about something else for a little while.”

“Good idea.” Dickce knocked back the contents of her glass. “I want to look through the books I bought today and decide which one to read first.” She followed her sister out of the room and up the stairs.

Several hours later, after both had retired for the night, they were awakened by the ringing of the house phone. Dickce glanced with eyes barely open at the luminous dial of her bedside clock. Who was calling them at seven minutes past midnight?

She picked up the handset from the nightstand and hit the answer button. “Hello,” she said, her throat dry. She identified herself. “Who is this?”

“It’s Barbie,” the caller replied.

“Who?” An’gel said from the extension in her bedroom.

“Barbie Gross,” Dickce said. “What is it, Barbie. What’s wrong?”

Dickce heard someone draw a long breath. Then Barbie said, “I just heard the news. Arliss is in intensive care at the hospital. They won’t know if she’s going to make it until morning.”