Grave Sight

five

WE had no purpose the next day, which again dawned sunny and crisp. I went out for a run right after I got up, and I saw Tolliver trotting down the street in the opposite direction when I was almost back at the motel. After I'd showered, and he'd returned and cleaned up, we ate at a different diner.

About midmorning, I was so bored I got Tolliver to take me out to the older cemetery, the one I'd noticed the morning I'd found Teenie. I found it with my other sense, instead of asking for directions. This cemetery had graves over a hundred and fifty years old—well established, at least in American terms. The presence of so many old dead produced a constant, mellow reverberation, almost soothing; like giant ancient drums in the distance. Though the grounds were well tended, in the oldest section I spied a few overturned headstones with writing that time had obscured. These stones would belong to families who had died out; there were no living descendants to tend the plots. I amused myself by going from grave to grave, reaching deep to pull from each collection of bones what information I could garner. The glimpses I caught of these faces were often blurred or obscured, as if the dead themselves had forgotten who they'd been. Every now and then I saw the features clearly, heard a name, caught a longer glimpse of death in the past.

"Childbirth," I called to Tolliver, who was sitting half-in half-out of the car while he worked a crossword puzzle.

"Another one," he said, hardly raising his eyes from the page. It was the third childbirth death I'd found.

"Kind of scary." I stepped to the next grave. Since this was simply to pass the time and keep in practice, I'd left my shoes on. It was a nippy day, and I didn't want to catch a cold, especially since I was just messing around. "You know, Tolliver, men didn't used to die of heart attacks."

"That so?"

"That's what I heard on the news the other day. Oh! This guy was crushed by a tree he was cutting down."

Tolliver didn't bother to look up. "Um," he said, so I gathered he wasn't listening. I moved to my right. "Asthma attack," I muttered. "Blood poisoning from a knife cut. Scarlet fever. Smallpox. Flu. Pneumonia." I shook my head. So many of these things could be cured, or at least eased, now. I couldn't fathom people who longed for the past. They weren't thinking about the absence of antibiotics, that was for sure.

The next grave was one of the oldest. The tombstone had broken in half, and someone had tried to set it back together. I couldn't read the name.

"Hey, gunshot wound," I called to Tolliver.

"That's Lieutenant Pleasant Early," Hollis Boxleitner said, from about a yard behind me. "He was shot during the Civil War."

If there'd been an open grave, I would've jumped into it. Tolliver looked up sharply and lay down the clipboard. "Where'd you come from?" he asked, in no very friendly tone.

"I was weeding my great-grandmother's grave over there." Hollis inclined his head toward the north side of the cemetery; sure enough, there was a bucket full of weeds and a trowel beside a grave with a leaning headstone.

"During a murder investigation, you have time to weed?" Tolliver's voice was sharper than necessary.

"It relaxes me." Hollis's broad face remained calm. "And the state guys are in town."

A gust of wind blew dry leaves across the graves. As they crossed the graveled drive that wended through the cemetery, they made a hissing sound. I liked it.

"So, is this kind of... recreation, for you?" Hollis asked, indicating the graves around us.

"Yes. Just kind of keeping my hand in." People always expect me to be embarrassed by what I do. Why?

"Have you ever been to a really old graveyard? Like in England?"

I ducked my head. "Not often. There are the Indian mounds, of course, and even more ancient people. Those are pretty interesting. And we went to a very early American one. In Massachusetts."

"Was it the same? Does the length of time they've been dead make a difference?"

I was pleased at the question. Not many people want to know too much about what I do. "Yes, it does," I said. "I get fainter pictures, less exact knowledge. Someday I want us to go to Westminster Abbey. And Stonehenge." Lots of ancient dead people there, for sure.

"You think you could get any more information by going back to Helen Hopkins' house?" The policeman had switched back to the here and now, putting an end to our conversation.

"No," I said. "I have to be with the body." I didn't want to go through that, not at all. It was very unpleasant, seeing the death of someone you'd known.

"The state police have taken over the investigation," Hollis said, after he'd retrieved his bucket of weeds. "I just answer the phones on my shift. There's a hot line number."

It took me a second to understand that he'd been banished from the investigation.

"That sucks," I offered. I've met enough cops to know that the best of them like to be in charge. The best ones have that confidence.

He shrugged. "In a way. I'm just a part-time cop, it's true."

"She was your mother-in-law."

"Yes," he said heavily. "They're waiting for you."

For a second, since I was standing on a grave, I was sure he meant all the dead people; and I already knew they were. Then I realized his meaning was much more mundane. The lawyer, Paul Edwards, and a uniformed man I'd never seen, were standing by the car talking to Tolliver. I was glad I'd left my shoes on. I took a breath and began walking toward the men.

"Good luck," said Hollis, and I nodded. I knew he was watching, and he would see.

W E had a dismal time at the police station. The state police thought I was a blood-sucking leech. I'd anticipated their attitude as we drove into town, but it wore me out anyway. The male faces followed each other in slow succession. Thin, heavy, white, black, intelligent, dense; they all shared an opinion of me they didn't take any pains to hide. I guess they thought Tolliver was the enabler of the blood-sucking leech.

I don't like being treated like a confidence trickster, and I'm sure Tolliver likes it even less. I retreat inside myself, and I don't let them touch my quick. Tolliver tries to do that, too, but he is less successful. He gets very upset when people impugn our honor.

"We looked into your file," said a thin man with a greyhound face and cold, narrow eyes. The interrogation room was small and beige. They'd taken Tolliver into the one next door.

I breathed in, breathed out, looked at the wall behind his ear.

"You and your ‘brother' have been questioned lots of times," he said. His name tag read, Green. He waited to make sure I'd heard he'd put "brother" in quotes.

Since there was nothing to respond to, I did some of my own waiting.

"No one's ever put you behind bars," he said.

This was another indisputable fact, and I did some more waiting.

"Of course, they should've."

Opinion. Didn't call for a response. My parents hadn't been lawyers for nothing.

"You know what they say about people from this neck of the woods," Green said. "The kind of people who go to family reunions to get a date?"

Green was from somewhere else, I assumed. I slid lower in the plastic chair.

"I figure you and your brother are people like that," he said, with a most unpleasant smile.

Another opinion, and one he knew was based on incorrect information.

"He's not really your brother, is he?"

"Stepbrother," I said.

He was taken aback. "But you introduce him as your brother."

"Simplification," I said. I crossed my legs the other way, just to have a change. I was ready to eat lunch. Tolliver and I would go to a restaurant, or we'd get something at the grocery store to heat up in the little microwave we carried with us and plugged in at motel rooms. We'd talked about buying a little house outside of Dallas. We would have a bigger microwave there, or maybe I'd learn to cook. I liked to clean; that is, I didn't exactly love the process, but I did love the result. I might subscribe to a magazine, something it had never been practical for me to do. Maybe National Geographic. The December after we moved into the house, Tolliver and I would buy a Christmas tree. I hadn't had a Christmas tree in ten years.

"... hearing a word I say?" Greyhound Green's face was drawn with anger.

"No, I haven't. I'm ready to go now. You know I didn't kill that poor woman. You know Tolliver didn't, either. There's not a reason in the world we'd want to do anything to her. You just don't like me. But you can't put me in jail because you don't like me."

"You prey on the grief of others."

"How?"

He glared at me. "They're grieving, wanting closure, and you and your brother turn up like crows to pick at the carcass."

"Not so," I said briskly. I was on sure ground, here. "I find the body. Then they have closure. They're happier." I got to my feet, feeling my legs prickle after sitting so long in the same chair. "We'll stay in town as long as you want. But we didn't hurt Helen Hopkins. You know it."

He stood, too, and tried to think of something to say that would stop me from leaving, convict me of some crime. But there was nothing, and he had to watch me leave. I knocked on the door of the next room. "Tolliver," I called. "Let's us go."

After a pause, Tolliver opened the door and stepped out. I looked up at him, and saw his eyes were filled with rage. I gently put my hand on his cheek, and when a moment had passed, he relaxed. Together, we walked out of the tiny Sarne police station and over to the car. The grass around the courthouse was starting to brown, and the big silver maple leaves cartwheeled across it exuberantly.

Following the path of one leaf, my eyes lit on Mary Nell Teague. She was waiting for us, her face eager. No, she was waiting for Tolliver. I was clearly a shadow walking beside him, in her eyes. She'd parked her little car right by ours, which must have been difficult. It was a Saturday, and the town was busy.

A group of teenage boys was clustered around the war memorial. They could have been teenagers from anywhere in the United States—jeans, T-shirts, sneakers. Maybe their haircuts weren't cutting edge, but that wouldn't bother anyone here. I wouldn't have had a second look at them if I hadn't realized they were watching us. They didn't look friendly. The tallest one was glaring from Nell to Tolliver.

"Hmm," I said, wanting to be sure Tolliver had noticed the boys.

"Psychics are all crap," the tallest boy said, loud enough for us to hear. Of course, that was his purpose. He was probably on the football team, probably class president. He was the alpha wolf. Handsome and brawny, he was wearing sneakers that had cost more than every stitch I was wearing added together. "The devil is in people who say they talk to the dead," he said even louder. Mary Nell was probably too far away to hear him, but she was glancing back and forth from the pack of boys to us, and she looked, in turn, indignant, horrified, and excited. I thought we had us a little love triangle going on here: Alpha Boy, Mary Nell, and Tolliver. Only, Tolliver didn't know about it.

I was becoming antsier by the second. The boys were moving to intercept us. Tolliver had gotten the keys out of his pocket and pressed the pad to unlock the doors.

Mary Nell, moving swiftly, intercepted us just before the boys did. "Hey, Tolliver!" she said brightly, taking his arm. "Oh... hi, Harper." I tried not to smile at my second-class status. It was easier not to smile when I saw there was no way to avoid some kind of confrontation with the boys. Alpha Boy laid his hand on Nell's shoulder, halting her progress, and therefore ours.

"You shouldn't be hanging around with these people," he said to Mary Nell. I could tell from his voice he had known Nell for a long time, and had a proprietary interest in her.

Alpha Boy might have known her for a long time, but he hadn't known her well. Her little face tightened with anger. He'd embarrassed her in front of her newest fixation, an exotic out-of-town older man. "Scotty, you don't have any say over me," she said. "Tolliver, let's us go to the Sonic and have a Coke."

Tolliver was caught between a rock and a hard place, and I waited to see what he'd do to get out of it. While he squirmed, I looked from young male face to young male face, trying to meet each set of eyes and smile, the squeaky non-sexual smile of a newscaster. Only two of them made the effort to nod to me; the others either evaded my gaze or scowled at me. This was not good.

"Mary Nell, I'd like to, but Harper and I have to go back to the motel and make some phone calls," Tolliver said. I could see him casting around for something to say that would simultaneously salvage her pride, get him off the hook, and mollify the angry columns of testosterone that were glowering at us. There was nothing that would serve all three functions.

"Maybe Mary Nell would like to have supper with us tonight," I said unwillingly. It was not so much that I was trying to show the girl some mercy; if she got angry with us, her anger would give the boys permission to attack.

I saw the conflict on Mary Nell's face pass in a flash; it was I who had asked, which negated the value of the invitation, but it did save her face, to some extent. "That would be wonderful," she said, giving me the barest glance. "I'll see you at six at the Ozark Valley Inn."

I had no idea where that was, but I said, "See you then," and Nell walked away to her car very quickly, her head held high. Just as quickly, Tolliver and I got in our car and drove away, stopping at the next light to buckle our seat belts.

Tolliver looked angry and embarrassed. "Too bad you don't want to be in a boy band," I said, after a minute of riding in silence. "You've obviously got the charisma."

"Oh, shut up!" he said. "How about you? You gonna be one of the Babes of Law Enforcement?"

"Well, at least Hollis is legal age... ." I began, but then I couldn't help smiling.

Tolliver managed a small upcurve of the lips. "Where the hell is the Ozark Valley Inn?" he said.

"I have no idea, but we better find it by six o'clock. Gosh, I have a headache. I sure hope it doesn't get so bad that I have to bow out of the dinner... ."

"You do and you die."

We picked up salads for lunch, and took them back to the motel. The phone rang just as we were settling down to read. We were in my room, so I answered.

"This is Hollis. Do you want to go to supper with me?"

We could double-date with Mary Nell and Tolliver! Wouldn't that be fun? I bit my lip to suppress the idea. "I'm busy for supper," I said hesitantly, knowing I should turn him down flat, but tempted nonetheless.

"A drink afterward?"

"Yes," I said cautiously, after I'd thought about it.

"I'll pick you up at the motel. Eight o'clock?"

"Okay, see you then."

"All right. Goodbye."

I said goodbye, too, and hung up. Tolliver was eyeing me sardonically. "Let me guess, Cop Boy?"

I nodded. "We're going to have a drink together tonight at eight, so we'll have to cut short our romantic rendezvous with Mary Nell. I'm sure you don't want to be unchaperoned."

"If there's anywhere here it would take two hours to eat, I'd be very astonished," Tolliver said, at his driest.

I agreed, and re-opened my book. But for a few minutes, I read the same page over and over.

When we stopped by the motel office to ask for directions to the Ozark Valley Inn, we noticed that the older man who ran the place was not too happy about helping us. We'd learned his name was Vernon, and he wore overalls and had the worn and wrinkled face of a basset. Vernon had been pleasant enough up to now, though we hadn't seen much of him. But tonight he was distant, his gaze disapproving. "You planning on moving your bags over there?" he asked, almost hopefully.

"No," I said, surprised. "We're just meeting someone for dinner in the restaurant at the inn."

" 'Cause I been meaning to tell you, I'm going to need those rooms pretty soon. Hope you two wasn't planning on staying very long."

"I'm sure you have tons of business coming in," I agreed, maybe a little coldly. "And we won't stay a minute longer than we have to."

"Glad to hear it."

"I guess no one's going to ask us to judge the floats in the homecoming parade," I said to Tolliver when we were in the car.

He smiled, but it was a small smile. "The sooner we can get out of Sarne, the better," he said.

Mary Nell came in seven minutes after we were seated at a table in the inn, which was on the southern side of the town. Her face was flushed and her cell phone was in her hand. I was willing to bet she'd lied to her mother about where she was going and whom she was going to be with. I almost hated the girl at that moment, for the trouble she might get us into.

"Sorry I'm late," Mary Nell said, as she took a chair. "I had some things I had to do at home. My mom is so paranoid."

"She lost your brother," I said. "I'm sure that's made her more protective." I wouldn't have thought even a self-absorbed teenager could have missed that point.

The girl flushed deep red. "Of course," she said stiffly. "I just mean, she doesn't seem to know how old I am." She'd dressed with care, in new low riders with a tight green T-shirt. She wore a soft fuzzy cardigan sweater and boots.

"That's a common thing with mothers," I said. My own mother had forgotten how old I was, after she'd started chasing the drugs with alcohol. She'd decided I was much older and needed a boyfriend. She picked a doping buddy of hers who was willing to give her free samples for the privilege of being my first "date." Tolliver had gone off to college by then, and I'd had to spend a day locked in my room. I had known that eventually they'd go to sleep and I'd be able to get out of the house, but I was hungry and thirsty and had no access to a bathroom. After that, I kept bottled water and a box of crackers and an old cooking pot in my room.

"Have you lived in Sarne all your life?" Tolliver asked Mary Nell.

She flushed when he spoke directly to her. "Yes," she said. "My dad's parents were born here, too. Dad died just before Dell." I was startled. When Edwards had told me Sybil was a recent widow, I hadn't realized how recent. "Dell, he really missed Dad... . He was closer to Dad than me." She sounded vaguely resentful.

"I want to ask you a question, Mary Nell," I said. "I don't want to upset you any more than I have to, but when you were talking to us the other night, you paused after you said one sentence. You said something like, ‘I knew he wouldn't kill Teenie and...' and then you stopped. What were you going to say?"

Mary Nell eyed me. You could tell her feelings were conflicted. "Please tell us, Nell," Tolliver said, and she crumbled when she looked into his dark brown eyes. He'd called her something special.

"Okay," she said, leaning across the table to share her big secret. "Dell told me, the week before he and Teenie... the week before they died, that Teenie was gonna have a baby." Her heavily made-up eyes were as big and round as a raccoon's. The girl was clearly shocked that her brother had been having sex with his girlfriend, and she just as clearly considered the pregnancy top-secret knowledge.

"No one knew?"

"He sure didn't tell my mom. She would've killed him." Then, as she realized what she'd said, Mary Nell turned red as a brick, and tears filled her eyes.

"That's okay," I said hastily, "we know your mom wouldn't really do that."

"Well, Mom never has liked Teenie's mom too much. I don't know why. Miss Helen used to work for us a few years ago, and I thought she was great. Always singing."

And I could tell that she suddenly remembered that Helen Hopkins had been murdered, too. There was a look on her face, a lost look, like she was drowning.

"If I'd killed everyone I didn't like, I'd be able to dress in their scalps," Tolliver said.

Mary Nell gave a startled giggle and covered her mouth with her small hand.

After all this time, could an autopsy establish Teenie's pregnancy?

"Dell didn't tell anyone but you?" I asked.

"No one knew but me," Mary Nell said proudly.

Mary Nell was sure her brother hadn't told anyone about the baby, but what about Teenie? Had she told someone? Her mother, maybe?

Her mother, who was... gee, let me think... dead.