Digging Up The Dirt

CHAPTER 25

Coriander Simpson was dead.

For a moment Dickce couldn’t take it in. She realized she should have considered the possibility, but she was shocked nevertheless.

“I’m so sorry for your loss,” she said after a moment. “I had no idea.”

“Thank you.” Mrs. Simpson sighed. “So long ago, but sometimes it feels like just yesterday we got the news.” She kept stroking Peanut’s head, and he stared at her with his most soulful gaze. Dickce thought her hostess drew comfort from the dog’s presence.

“Do you mind if I ask what happened?” Dickce said.

“Not at all,” Mrs. Simpson replied. “I don’t rightly know the details, but I can tell what I do know.” She leaned forward in her chair and twisted her upper body so she could face the door. “Where is that child?” She raised her voice. “Monique, honey, where are you?”

“I’m coming,” Monique answered, evidently from the hallway, Dickce decided, because the words were pretty clear. A moment later Monique came into the room at a slow pace, her attention focused on the tall glass of iced tea she held. She walked up to Dickce. “This is for you, ma’am. I’m going back to get Great-granny’s tea.”

“Thank you, Monique,” Dickce said as she accepted the glass. She was grateful that Peanut remained by Mrs. Simpson’s side. She had feared he would, in his puppy-like enthusiasm, bound over to Monique and have tea and glass going everywhere.

The child giggled before she scampered out of the room.

“What a precious child,” Dickce said.

“She is that,” Mrs. Simpson said. “Now you go on and drink your tea. Monique will be back soon with mine.”

“Thank you.” Dickce took a sip of the tea and then another. “It’s delicious.” The tea was strong the way she liked it, and the sweetness was perfect.

“I’m glad you like it,” Mrs. Simpson said. “Now, what was I going to tell you? Oh, yes, about Coriander. Like I said, I don’t rightly know the details. We got a telegram telling us she was dead, and that was about it.”

“My goodness,” Dickce said. “That’s strange. Where was she when she died?”

“Over in Europe,” Mrs. Simpson replied. “I think it was in England. Now, I expect you’re wondering how she ended up there when she’d never been anywhere except here and Mississippi before.”

“Yes, I was wondering that,” Dickce said when it seemed that Mrs. Simpson required a response. “She must have left the employ of Mrs. Partridge.”

“She was planning to get married over there,” Mrs. Simpson said. “A couple months before she quit working for Miss Callie and left the country she sent me a letter, telling me she’d done fell in love with a man, and he wanted to marry her. She didn’t tell me who he was or even what his name was, but she promised she’d come home and bring him to meet me.”

“Did she?” Dickce asked.

“No, she never did. After that, the next I heard was that telegram telling me she was dead.”

Dickce found this story odd. There was something about it that simply didn’t sound legitimate. She would have to tread carefully because she didn’t want to upset Mrs. Simpson.

“When exactly did all this happen?” Dickce wondered if Coriander had left Ashton Hall after Callie disappeared, or before. She couldn’t remember Callie ever telling them that her housemaid had left her.

“It was forty years ago,” Mrs. Simpson said. “Would you like to see the telegram? It’s got the exact date on it.”

“If you wouldn’t mind, if it’s not too painful,” Dickce said, “I would like to see it.”

Mrs. Simpson raised herself slowly from her chair. “You stay right there, sweet boy,” she said to Peanut before she stepped past him. The Labradoodle obeyed.

Dickce sensed that any offer of assistance would be rebuffed, but she was ready in case Mrs. Simpson should falter. She gave Peanut a stern look, hoping he would be still until Mrs. Simpson was back in her chair.

Mrs. Simpson moved slowly to a desk that stood against the wall and opened the top drawer. She shuffled papers for a moment, then turned with a single piece of paper in her hand. She brought it to Dickce and resumed her seat. Peanut promptly laid his head on her knee, and Mrs. Simpson patted it.

Dickce stared down at the rumpled piece of paper. The message was brief. And brutal, she decided. Regret to inform you that Coriander Simpson was killed in an accident in London. Burial to take place here. Sincere condolences. H. Wachtel

The name puzzled Dickce. She couldn’t recall any people with that name in Athena, though there must have been someone. Where else would Coriander have met him?

She looked at the date. June fifteenth. The same year that both Hadley and Callie disappeared from Athena.

Dickce returned the telegram to Mrs. Simpson. “Did you ever hear from this H. Wachtel again?”

Mrs. Simpson shook her head. “Not another word.” She sighed. “I couldn’t even bring my baby home to bury. She’s over there, and I don’t even know where.”

Dickce felt the woman’s grief, and for a moment she couldn’t speak. Finally she found her voice again. “Thank you for sharing this with me, Mrs. Simpson. I can only imagine how painful this is for you, and you have my deepest sympathies.”

Mrs. Simpson smiled briefly. “Thank you, ma’am.”

“I can tell you that your daughter must have left Athena around the same time that Callie Partridge did, but other than that, I don’t know anything. I’ve never heard of the person who sent the telegram.” Dickce shook her head. “I know there’s no comfort in that, but if I find out anything more, I will come back and tell you.”

“Thank you,” Mrs. Simpson said.

“Here’s your tea, Great-granny,” Monique said. The child’s quiet approach and sudden words startled Dickce, and she barely missed knocking over her own glass.

Mrs. Simpson accepted the glass and drank. Dickce decided she had taken enough of her hostess’s time. She finished her own tea and handed the glass to the hovering child. She thanked her again and rose.

“Mrs. Simpson, I appreciate your time, but I’d better get back on the road for home.” She pulled one of her calling cards from her purse and handed it to her hostess. “If there’s ever anything I can do for you, please call.”

Mrs. Simpson thanked her and held out her hand for Dickce to shake. “I hope you can find out what happened to Miss Callie,” Mrs. Simpson said. “She was always good to my daughter.”

“I’ll let you know, I promise.” Dickce held out her hand toward Peanut. “Come on, boy, time to go home.”

Peanut whined and looked up at Mrs. Simpson. She rubbed his head twice more and told him he was a sweet boy. Then he seemed satisfied and ready to go with Dickce.

Monique showed them to the door. She gave Peanut a quick hug and a pat on the head, and he returned her gestures with a couple of licks to her face. She giggled, and Dickce said good-bye.

Peanut jumped into the backseat, where Endora greeted him with several loud meows and a swipe at his head. Peanut barked at her, and that seemed to satisfy the cat. Once Peanut and Dickce were both settled, Benjy started the car and backed carefully out of the driveway. Dickce looked back to see Monique still on the porch, waving at them. She waved back until they were out of sight.

As Benjy navigated their way back to the highway, Dickce shared with him the details of her visit with Coriander Simpson’s mother. She concluded by saying, “There’s something fishy about that story and that telegram.”

“I think you’re right,” Benjy said. “You can’t remember anybody named Wachtel from Athena, you said.”

“No, I can’t,” Dickce replied. “But the name is oddly familiar for some reason. I must know it in some other context.” She shook her head. “Right now I can’t recall it. Hopefully it will come to me later.”

Benjy chuckled. “I usually remember things in the shower, for some reason.”

Dickce smiled. “Maybe I should take a shower when I get home and see if it helps.”

They were silent until they reached the highway south. “I can’t wait to tell An’gel about all this.” Dickce checked her watch. “It’s only a quarter to four. I wonder if she’s still talking to Hadley.” She fished out her cell phone and speed-dialed her sister. She listened briefly, then said, “Give me a call when you get this message, Sister.” She laid the phone on the seat beside her.

“I’m thinking about the timing of Coriander’s departure,” Benjy said. “She obviously left Athena not long after Hadley Partridge. If we accept the fact that the remains that we found belong to Mrs. Partridge, then Coriander probably left before Mrs. Partridge died. Does that sound reasonable?”

Dickce thought this over for a moment. “It seems reasonable, but we really can’t be sure when Coriander left. She might even have left before Hadley. We know she was dead by the fifteenth of June, two weeks after he says he left. She had to have a few days to get to London somehow, and she could have gone straight to Memphis with this Mr. Wachtel and boarded a plane for England.”

“True,” Benjy said. “Too bad we don’t know where Mrs. Turnipseed is, or we could ask her when Coriander left.”

“I only hope we get the chance to talk to her,” Dickce said. “For all we know she could be lying dead in a ditch somewhere.”