Digging Up The Dirt

CHAPTER 21

An’gel felt a sudden great wave of sadness. She had more or less been expecting this news ever since they found the remains at Ashton Hall. But now that she heard it from Kanesha, it finally began to sink in. Callie Partridge was dead.

“An’gel, what is it? You look like you’re going to faint,” Dickce said, obviously alarmed.

An’gel drew a deep breath. “I’ll tell you in a minute,” she said to her sister. To Kanesha, she said, “How long do you think it will be before we know for sure?”

“That depends,” Kanesha said. “If we had medical or dental records to check against, it might be sooner. But given how long ago this probably happened, those might not be available. All we have to go on at the moment is that the remains are those of an adult female, and that diamond and emerald ring has been identified as belonging to Mrs. Partridge.”

“I see,” An’gel said. “Thank you for the update. We’ll keep this to ourselves, of course.”

“Good. We won’t be releasing that news yet,” Kanesha said. “I need to talk to Mr. Partridge again to see what he can tell us about his sister-in-law. Who her doctors were and so on.”

“I can tell you that,” An’gel said. “Elmo Gandy was her doctor. I don’t know about her dentist, though.”

“Thank you, Miss An’gel. I’ll be talking with you later, I’m sure.” Kanesha ended the call.

An’gel gave the handset back to Clementine.

“It was about Callie, wasn’t it?” Dickce asked.

“This can’t go any further than this room,” An’gel said. Dickce and Clementine nodded. “Yes, it was about Callie. The expert they consulted says the remains were definitely not from an old burial. They’re too recent.”

“So we know where Callie was now, these past four decades,” Dickce said. “I kept hoping, maybe foolishly, that it wouldn’t be her we found.”

“I know,” An’gel said. “I wanted to think she was alive and happy somewhere.”

“How old do you think she was when she died?” Dickce asked. “I’m thinking she was close to thirty.”

“That sounds about right,” An’gel replied. “I know she was several years younger than Hadley and probably nearly fifteen years younger than Hamish. I think he was about a year older than me.”

“How long’s it going to be before they know for sure who it is?” Clementine asked.

“It could take weeks, if not months,” An’gel said. “They’ll be trying to find dental and medical records for her, because those could give them the information they need.”

“Elmo Gandy should be able to help, then,” Dickce said.

“He should be able to,” An’gel said. “I hope they can identify her quickly so she can be given a proper burial.”

Dickce yawned suddenly. “My goodness,” she said. “I guess after that good breakfast, I’m feeling sleepy.”

“We both had an interrupted night,” An’gel said. She tried to resist but she couldn’t help yawning either.

“I think y’all better go upstairs and take a little nap,” Clementine said. “Nothing you can do right now anyway, might as well get some rest.”

“I think you’re right.” Dickce stood. “I suspect I’ll be dragging this afternoon if I don’t rest now.” She looked at the cat nestled in her arms. “Endora, would you like to go upstairs with me?”

Endora, thus addressed, stirred and looked up at Dickce. She yawned, then meowed. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

An’gel rose to follow her sister out of the kitchen. Peanut woofed at her. “I suppose you want to go with me?”

Peanut wagged his tail and woofed again. “Come along, then.”

She paused at the door to turn back and speak to the housekeeper. “Did Benjy say whether he would be back in time for lunch?”

Clementine nodded. “Said he was going to have lunch in town. He’s expecting to be at the library a good part of the day, he said.”

An’gel thanked her and headed for the stairs. Peanut loped ahead. Dickce was already on the landing above her when she started up. She heard her sister’s door close when she was halfway to the top. An’gel proceeded up the stairs where she found Peanut waiting at her bedroom door. She opened the door and followed him in, thinking about Benjy’s research at the library. She hoped he could find some kind of clue that might lead them to Coriander Simpson. If Callie’s former housemaid was still alive, she might know something that could shed light on what happened at Ashton Hall all those years ago.

An’gel changed into a gown and climbed into bed. Peanut, after circling one spot several times, curled up at the corner of the bed near her feet, and went to sleep.

An’gel was tired, but she wasn’t expecting to fall asleep right away. Her mind felt too busy to allow her to relax enough. She kept picturing Arliss in a hospital bed, hooked up to the Lord only knew how many wires. She prayed that Arliss would recover and not be left paralyzed. She also prayed that Kanesha would soon get to the bottom of these vicious attacks and expose the guilty person.

Before long she drifted off, hazily aware of the dog’s gentle breathing. She came out of a sound sleep sometime later when she heard her cell phone ringing insistently on the bedside table. Still groggy, she picked it up and peered at the caller’s phone number. The name attached to it was L. B. Turnipseed. That brought her completely awake.

“Hello.” She identified herself and waited for Mrs. Turnipseed to respond. Peanut looked at her reproachfully for being awoken. He put his head down and watched her while she talked.

“I reckon you know who this is,” the woman said.

“I do, Mrs. Turnipseed,” An’gel replied. “I trust you’re doing well this morning.”

“I am, but that ain’t why I’m calling,” Mrs. Turnipseed said, her tone harsh. “I been thinking about what you and your sister were saying to me yesterday, and I reckon I might have remembered a thing or two after y’all jogged my memory.”

An’gel felt her pulse quicken. She had been right. The former housekeeper did know something. “I’m glad to hear it. My sister and I would be happy to come and visit with you again to hear all about what you’ve remembered.”

“I was pretty sure you would,” Mrs. Turnipseed replied. “There’s others that are pretty interested in what I have to say, too. What I’m wondering, though, is who’s going to be the most interested and grateful to hear it.”

An’gel wanted to tell Mrs. Turnipseed that she and Dickce weren’t about to stoop to bribery, but she knew that the woman likely wouldn’t talk to them unless they made it worth her while.

“I’m sure we could come to a mutually satisfactory arrangement,” An’gel said, trying to keep the distaste from her voice.

“I’m sure we can,” Mrs. Turnipseed said.

“Can you give me a little hint about what you’ve remembered? My sister and I are busy this afternoon, and if we’re going to have to rearrange our schedules, we want to be sure it’s going to be worth the trouble.” They had no plans for the afternoon, but Mrs. Turnipseed didn’t need to know that.

“I don’t know,” Mrs. Turnipseed said. “I got things to do myself.” She fell silent for a moment. “Well, I reckon it won’t hurt to tell you this much. Let’s just say I might’ve had to go back to Ashton Hall to pick up something before I went to my sister’s, and I could have seen something one night. Something that certain parties didn’t know I saw.”

An’gel wished she was close enough to grab the woman and shake her hard. Had she really been a witness to what happened to Callie? There was only one way to get the whole story, she supposed. She took a deep breath before she responded.

“That sounds promising. What time should my sister and I call on you?”

“How about four o’clock?” Mrs. Turnipseed said. “And bring cash.” She ended the call.

An’gel set her cell phone on the bedside table and leaned back against the pillows. She wondered whether she should let Kanesha know about the phone call. If she did, Kanesha would probably tell her and Dickce not to go. She really wanted to talk to Mrs. Turnipseed, however, and they could always tell Kanesha afterward.

She hesitated when she thought about actually giving the former housekeeper money. The woman was obviously greedy. How much would she want? What if she demanded an exorbitant sum, say ten thousand dollars? Or twenty?

There was no way she and her sister were about to hand over that kind of a bribe. Perhaps they could get out of her what they needed to know without actually giving her much money. They could say they couldn’t raise that much cash with only a few hours’ notice. Instead they could offer her a thousand and promise to give her the rest in a few days’ time.

What are you thinking?

An’gel realized the situation could easily spin out of control. She also realized that Mrs. Turnipseed could be playing a dangerous game. What certain parties was she talking about?

If the woman planned to put the bite on the person responsible for putting Callie in the ground at Ashton Hall, that person might not take kindly to the attempt at bribery. Mrs. Turnipseed could be putting her own life at risk.

An’gel frowned. What was it that Mrs. Turnipseed had said? There’s others that are pretty interested in what I have to say, too.

That could mean Mrs. Turnipseed had called someone else before she called An’gel.

An’gel snatched up her phone and speed-dialed Kanesha’s cell. That other person could already be on the way to make sure Mrs. Turnipseed didn’t talk to anyone else—ever.

The call went immediately to voice mail. An’gel waited for the tone, her anxiety growing. “This is An’gel Ducote. Mrs. Turnipseed just called me. She’s trying to get money out of me in exchange for information. I’m afraid she’s already talked to someone else. If she really knows anything, I think she’s in danger. Please send someone right away to check on her.” She ended the call.

Peanut stirred, no doubt alarmed by her tone. He crawled closer to her and laid his head on her leg. He whined, and she patted his head. “Nothing for you to worry about, handsome boy.”

An’gel dialed the sheriff’s office. She told the operator she had left a message for Kanesha and stressed the urgency of her call. She gave the gist of her message to Kanesha to the operator, and the operator promised that the deputy would be informed right away.

An’gel set her phone down on the bedside table. She stared down at the dog, still obviously uneasy because of her own agitation. She rubbed his head to calm him and at the same time to calm herself. She had done all she could for Mrs. Turnipseed.

No, I haven’t. She grabbed her phone again and looked at the list of calls. She found Mrs. Turnipseed’s number and called it back. She let the phone ring at least fifteen times, but there was no answer. Frustrated, she put the phone down again and went back to petting the dog, trying to keep her fears for Mrs. Turnipseed’s safety at bay. She could only pray that the sheriff’s department or the police department could get to the woman in time to prevent another death.