‘After dinner that Sunday evening, the four of us – the chief, Miss Hutchins and Willis and I – sat in the living room for over an hour discussing the case. The chief himself had removed the crime scene tape so we could enter the room. There was very little agreement: Miss Hutchins insisted the killer was her father back from the dead; the chief vehemently disagreed, going with his ‘no such thing as haunts’ theory; while I came down somewhere in the middle. I’m not sure I gave any credence to Miss Hutchins’ dead father walking among us and killing people, but I was convinced they were somehow connected. With Miss Hutchins’ permission, I showed the chief the photo albums with the scratched-out faces of all the men. He still didn’t see any connection. I couldn’t articulate what the connection might be, but somehow I knew there was one. Insisting on this only brought doubt to the chief’s eyes. I had a feeling he was not only doubting me, but Elena Luna as well.
He left around eight that evening, and Willis and I took a stroll in the cool of the night. It was close to ten p.m. before we headed back to the Bishop’s Inn.
When we walked in the door we found a frantic Miss Hutchins. ‘Oh, I’m so glad you’re here!’ she cried, grabbing me by the arm. ‘Miss Lovesy is missing!’
‘Missing?’ I repeated. ‘What do you mean?’
The old woman gave me a withering look. ‘I mean she’s not here. I mean she’s gone. G-O-N-E.’
Willis ran upstairs, coming back in a brief moment to declare, ‘Her stuff’s still here. Did you call the chief?’ he asked Miss Hutchins.
‘No,’ she said, wringing her hands. ‘I didn’t know what to do! I mean, y’all went for a walk – maybe she did too? And if I called the chief, it could be like the little boy who cried wolf.’
I took her lightly by the elbow and guided her into the living room, sitting her down on the sofa where Humphrey Hammerschultz had met his maker. I sat down next to her.
‘I wish you’d called me on my cell—’ I started, but was interrupted.
‘I don’t hold with those things! Everybody’s listening to everything you say! And besides, I hear they cause brain cancer!’ she declared.
‘Well,’ I said, pulling out my cancer-causing but color-coordinated accessory, ‘I think I’ll just make a quick call to the chief.’ I dialed the number of the police station and got the not-so-cooperative gray-haired lady I’d met earlier that day. ‘May I speak to the chief, please?’
‘This is the emergency line. We’re closed. Is this an emergency?’
‘Where’s the chief?’ I asked.
‘In bed for all I know.’
‘Do you have any way of contacting him?’ I asked.
There was a brief moment of silence before she said, ‘Maybe.’
‘Well, if you are able to do so, could you please tell him E.J. Pugh called to let him know that Miss Lovesy has left the Bishop’s Inn. Please tell him her things are still here, but she’s not.’
‘You’re that woman who barged in here this morning, right?’
‘I was there this morning, yes,’ I said, not willing to admit I’d ‘barged in’ anywhere.
‘And you think the chief would actually care what you have to say?’ she said, her voice skeptical.
‘Why not contact him and find out? You are a public servant, right? I’m the public, so serve me!’ I said and hung up. Not exactly the best way to get positive results, I’ll admit, but she was getting on my last nerve.
A couple of hours later I was in the kitchen helping Miss Hutchins with supper – her plan had been to make carnitas with the leftover pork roast, but due to our uninvited guest, there was no leftover pork roast, so we were going with canned tomato soup and grilled ham and cheese sandwiches – when my cell phone rang. It was in my pocket so I wiped my cheesy hands on the butt of my blue jeans and turned it on.
‘Hello?’
‘Miz Pugh? It’s Chief Cotton. We found your missin’ psycho—’
‘Psychic,’ I corrected.
‘Whatever. Don’t matter. She’s dead either way you pronounce it.’
BACK HOME
Megan and Alicia decided to move upstairs and leave Bess and Logan on their own. Well, Megan decided and browbeat Alicia, who was still somewhat worried about Logan’s intentions, into agreeing. That didn’t stop her from coming out of her room as soon as she heard Megan’s door shut. She sat down at the head of the stairs and waited for the conversation to stop. That’s when she planned to pounce. There would be no sex of any kind on her watch, goddamit!
‘What do you think Harper’s mom can do for us?’ Logan asked Bess.
She shrugged. ‘I don’t know, but maybe she can tell us who else may have had the opportunity to, you know …’
‘Jump Harper’s bones?’ Logan suggested.
‘Yeah, well, that.’
He put his fingers under her chin and lifted it, grinning at her. ‘You’re blushing,’ he said, his voice a half-whisper.
‘Am not,’ she half-whispered back.
His index finger stroked her cheek. ‘You’re so pretty,’ he said.
‘Thanks,’ Bess said, and knew for a fact that, if she hadn’t been before, she was definitely blushing now.
His mouth found hers in a soft kiss that turned more heated as the seconds flew by. When Bess could feel his tongue tickling her lips she drew back. A girl at school who had gone to Catholic schools until transferring to Black Cat Ridge High her junior year had told Bess in no uncertain terms that the nuns had assured her that French kissing was the same as doing the deed. Bess figured that they’d meant symbolically, but she felt it best to err on the side of caution.
‘What’s the matter?’ Logan asked.
‘Ah, I’m not sure I’m ready—’ she started, but he interrupted.
‘I’m sorry—’
‘No, no, it’s not your fault—’
‘Of course it is!’ Logan said, standing up. ‘I need to go home. Mom’s probably worried.’ He headed for the front door, Bess on his heels.
‘You don’t have to go!’ she said.
‘It’s late,’ he said, his back to her. He reached the door and opened it. Turning to face her, he said, ‘I’m sorry for being such a … such a … prick?’ he said.
‘No, not at all!’ Bess said, and could feel her face in flames.
‘I’ll see you tomorrow. Lunch, right?’ Logan asked.
‘Right,’ Bess said to his retreating back.
She felt tears streaming down her face as she shut and locked the front door, then felt a presence behind her.
‘That’s what they do,’ Alicia said, making Bess whirl around, her breath catching in her throat.
‘What are you talking about?’ Bess demanded, frowning at her younger sister.
‘They try to guilt you into it. They act all sorry they did this or that, in hopes that in your guilt, you’ll let them go a little farther—’
‘Jeez!’ Bess said, a little too loudly. ‘Were you listening?’
‘Damn straight!’ Alicia said. ‘I told you I was going to keep an eye out for you!’
Bess pushed past her. ‘Just stay out of my love life!’ she said.
Alicia followed her as she went through the house locking doors and checking windows. ‘How do we know he’s not the one who knocked up Harper? We only have his word for it! And he’s certainly trying to get in your pants!’
Bess whirled around to stare at her. ‘Listen! Just because my brother tried to guilt you into having sex with him is no reason to think all boys are like that! They’re not!’
‘Bullshit!’ Alicia said with some heat. Hearing her cuss took Bess aback. This was not Alicia’s usual choice of words. ‘All boys are like that! Men, too! You think Graham was the first guy to try to get in my pants? Not by a long shot! You know that foster sister of mine who got knocked up by the foster dad? You think she was the first one he tried that on? Hardly! But I managed to jump out the bedroom window while he had his pants down around his legs! And that foster brother who made it with that other girl in the next house? He said he’d pay me for a three-way! I declined! You think just because I was like a plain Jane before y’all did that make-over on me that I was some innocent? Well, I may still be a virgin, but it’s from my own due diligence and not trusting men! And that includes your – our – brother, and your new boyfriend!’
Her voice had gotten louder and louder as she spoke, to the point where the last of it was delivered at a volume that would often be called screaming. She turned and ran up the stairs, almost knocking Megan over at the landing. Stopping to watch Alicia run up, with her mouth hanging open, she finally turned and finished walking down the steps.
‘Did I hear that right?’ she asked Bess.
‘Don’t,’ Bess said, her voice menacing.
‘Do you think it was true?’ Megan insisted.
‘I don’t want to talk about it!’ Bess said, heading for the stairs and her room.
‘Jeez, I wish I knew what was going on around here!’ Megan said to her sister’s departing back. ‘Y’all are acting all kinds of weird, you know that?’
The chief told us where he was and, rather than walk the half mile to the location, I took the Audi and got to the crime scene tape in two minutes. Willis and I jumped out of the car and walked up to where the chief was kneeling. Diamond Lovesy’s body could easily be seen around the chief’s scrawny one.
‘What happened?’ I asked as we ducked under the tape that cordoned off a small alley. The body lay in the driveway of the alley between two buildings off a side street. The business on the left was closed; the building on the right was empty.
The chief turned around and I was able to see Diamond’s face. There was what could only be a bullet hole in her forehead. He stood up, shook hands with Willis and nodded to me. ‘Looks to me like she’s been shot, but I’m not willin’ to swear to that until the coroner tells me I can. I’d also be unwillin’ to stipulate at this point that it was not self-inflicted, as there’s no residue around the hole and – if she was shot – there ain’t no gun lying around like she dropped it. Get my drift?’
‘Sure do,’ I said, staring at the lifeless body of the woman who had given me nothing but grief. I felt bad for her – as you would for anyone who dies young, or anyone whose life is taken by someone else. But I didn’t feel much sorrow. I had to wonder if I was growing callous to these things – like many peace officers do. I shook myself to get back to the matter at hand.
‘She was murdered,’ I said.
‘Well, now, I’m not willin’ to say that until I know for sure she didn’t die of natural causes,’ the chief said.
A gargling sound came out of Willis’s throat.
‘How does one go about getting a hole in one’s forehead naturally?’ I asked.
‘Like I been saying, I’m not gonna speculate till the coroner says I can.’
I noticed Mary Mays standing in the darkness of the alley. She was glaring at me. I smiled at her and wiggled my fingers at her in a friendly manner. It seemed to do nothing to appease her. Finally another vehicle pulled up, followed by the same hearse that had been parked outside Miss Hutchins’ house after the discovery of Humphrey Hammerschultz’s body. The same coroner who’d been busy with Humphrey in Miss Hutchins’ living room got out of the car and the same driver got out of the hearse.
‘We got us a crime spree, Rigsby?’ the coroner asked, kneeling down by the body. ‘Maybe a serial killer?’
‘Don’t even know she was murdered yet, Bob. Up to you.’
His fingers still on the hole in Diamond’s forehead, the coroner looked up and said, ‘I declare this woman dead and, to be verified at autopsy, I will, at this juncture, deem this a likely homicide.’
‘Well, all right then,’ the chief said, looked at me, smiled, and gave me a thumbs-up. Turning to Mary Mays, he said, ‘You check out the scene?’ She nodded. ‘Find anything?’ he asked. She shook her head. ‘You call Alice?’ he asked.
‘On it,’ she said, and pulled her cell phone of her belt.
‘Alice?’ I asked.
‘She’s our forensic specialist. She took a course,’ the chief said.
‘Mind if I look around?’ I asked. ‘I promise I won’t touch anything.’
The chief shrugged. ‘Knock yourself out,’ he said, while Mary Mays’ frown deepened and, as the saying goes, if looks could kill, I’d be deader than Diamond Lovesy.
But that didn’t stop me. I looked around the body then walked deeper into the alley, passing Officer Mays whose glaring stare followed me the whole way. There wasn’t even any litter. Not a damn thing. As I headed back to the mouth of the alley, Mary Mays leaned toward me and said, ‘Did you think I was lying?’
‘No, I just thought you might have missed something,’ I said.
‘Oh,’ she said, folding her arms across her chest. ‘Not lying, just incompetent.’
I smiled. ‘Yeah, something like that.’
I wasn’t winning friends and influencing people in Peaceful, Texas, I can – in the chief’s vernacular – guaran-damn-tee you that.
‘Mary, wait here for forensics,’ the chief said as the hearse driver and his helper managed to get Diamond’s body on the gurney. ‘Me and the Pughes here are going back to my office.’
We followed the chief to the municipal building where we parked in the back next to one of the squad cars. The chief was driving his, but it had been the only one at the scene. I briefly wondered how Mary Mays was going to get back to the station, but, in reality, I didn’t really care. We went in a back door, bypassing the waiting room and the frowning gray-haired lady at the front desk, and straight into the chief’s office. The straight-back chair that Willis had been in earlier was still there, so we both took our seats.
‘So I’m wondering what kinda shenanigans those two frauds had been up to and if it followed them here to our peaceful little town.’ He stopped and looked at us one at a time. ‘That was on purpose,’ he said, waving his hand and smiling. ‘Throwing in the “peaceful little town” part.’ He stared at us as we sat opposite him. I wasn’t sure how to respond, or even if we were supposed to respond. ‘Some people think that’s funny,’ he said, losing the smile.
‘Oh, right!’ Willis said, and issued a phony laugh. ‘Because the name of the town is Peaceful!’ he said and laughed yet again.
‘If you gotta explain it, it ain’t funny!’ the chief said, the smile so long gone that a frown had taken its place.
‘Are you implying that these two murders have nothing to do with the goings-on at the Bishop’s Inn?’ I asked, slightly incredulous.
‘I ain’t implying dog shit, excuse my French. I’m downright saying it: ain’t nothin’ going on at the Bishop’s Inn that these two con artists didn’t bring with ’em!’
I sighed. ‘Chief, listen, please. This has been going on for over a year! Like noises in the night, guests’ luggage tampered with and sightings of someone else in the house. And I showed you those disturbing pictures in Miss Hutchins’ family albums! Not to mention that Willis and I both heard something the other night. A sound like someone dragging something down the hall. It woke us both up. By the time we got to the hall, we could hear someone going out the front door. So, I reiterate: something is going on in that house and I truly believe that Diamond’s and Humphrey’s deaths are somehow involved.’
The chief sighed right back at me. ‘Look, I ain’t saying nothin’s going on. I believe y’all heard what you heard, and I certainly did see those pictures, but I just don’t see how it’s connected.’
‘Someone did kill Miss Hutchins’ mother,’ Willis said.
‘Yeah,’ the chief said, frowning, ‘in 1945. Anybody big enough to have done the damage I’ve read about had to be an adult. So let’s say twenty. Miss Hutchins was ten years old. She is now seventy-something. Which would make the killer at least somewhere in his eighties. You think someone that old is running around the inn causing mischief and is quick enough to never be seen? Not to mention some eighty-year-old breaking ol’ Humphrey’s neck!’
Willis appeared to be sulking. ‘Well, y’all never did find Miss Hutchins’ mother’s killer.’
‘No, sir, we never did. But my point is valid, donja think?’
Willis shrugged. He was new to speculating on murders and was getting a little defensive. I patted his hand. I’d tell him later how proud I was.
1948–1952
Edgar was surprised at how calm he felt as he walked away from Peaceful, Texas. He’d never killed anyone, not even a Jap, but he now understood that it wasn’t all that hard to do. Not that he had planned on killing Helen, or even knew that’s what he was doing at first, but when he heard the scream and saw the blood he felt something akin to real pleasure. And it wasn’t as if she didn’t deserve it. He’d thought, as he’d left the house on Post Oak Street, about going the extra mile out of his way to see his father and last surviving brother. It would be a pleasure to see his dad and watch his face as he killed Herbert. Not that dear old Dad cared that much for Herbert, but it might mean something to him. Mainly, he just wanted to kill the old man, but not enough to go out of his way to do it. Killing Helen hadn’t been that pleasurable.
And so he left Peaceful, hitchhiking his way east. He ended up in Biloxi, Mississippi, where he got a job, doing the only thing he knew how to do: digging ditches. It didn’t pay well, and he hated it, but it got him a room in a boarding house with three squares a day (the landlady’s daughter slipped him a sack lunch when nobody else was looking), and he won a little bit now and then at poker. A black guy at work taught him how to play craps and he found he was made for this particular game. One night he managed to win over six hundred dollars, but as he was leaving the back alley where the game was held, three of the black guys from the game grabbed him and stole back the six hundred, as well as the five dollar bill he’d hidden in his wallet, and beat him bloody.
He missed several days of work due to his injuries and lost his job because of it. But one thing he did win from this ordeal was a new bed partner, namely the young daughter of his landlady, who had started out by nursing him back to health and had ended up under the covers. Her name was Rita, and she was a pretty girl, even if she was as cross-eyed as a goose. And it didn’t take too long before Rita was with child. His landlady was just about as happy with this situation as Lupita’s mother had been, and he and Rita were rushed into – if not a shotgun wedding – then at least a pretty quick one.
It wasn’t bad being married to Rita. She, like Lupita, was a real pleaser, but unlike Lupita, didn’t seem to be bright enough to lie to him or to try to put anything over on him like Lupita had. He got sore just thinking about the way she kept him in that forest so long after the war had ended. But Rita was willing and able to do anything he wanted and never bugged him about getting another job. His life with her consisted of days waking up around two or three in the afternoon, raiding the boarding house refrigerator and pantry of anything his little heart desired, and his nights spent playing poker or shooting craps. He learned never to earn too much money when playing with black people. The baby was born and it was a boy, and they named him Chester, after her father. Edgar was pleased to have a son, someone he could pass things down to. He wasn’t sure what, since he didn’t play sports, or hunt or fish (other than out of necessity back in the Philippines), or use tools, other than his head. He could teach the boy how to shoot craps, how to play poker, and maybe even to shoot pool, if he got better at it than he was now.
In those years with Rita, that’s where most of his gambling earnings went: back into gambling, which was slowly evolving to include pool, and onto his own back. He discovered his body type liked the zoot suits of the era, and that he looked really good in them. And women liked the way he looked. So he’d play pool, wear his high-top pants and long jackets, smoke his cigarettes, drink a lot of booze and treat strange women to a drink and a dance, and even a bauble or two, before bedding them in any nearby fleabag hotel.
His new mother-in-law hated his guts and wasn’t shy about expressing her feelings. She knew, as most women did, what he was doing out every night, and resented him for it. She put him up in her home for free, fed him for free and took care of his wife and child, and all he did was whore around all night, drinking and gambling, making poor Rita a laughing stock. Luckily, Rita didn’t know this. She was a simple girl, and was quite happy to have her man and her baby boy.
Things were going swimmingly for Edgar until the summer of 1952. That’s when he won too much money at craps again and got jumped by two black guys as he was leaving. But Edgar was a fast learner, and since the first assault had been carrying his dead brother Norris’s straight-razor in its red velvet monogrammed sheath in his pocket – the same razor he’d used to kill his former lady love. And when those two black boys came at him, Edgar fought back, killing one and badly maiming the other. It was the next day that he heard through the grapevine that the whole of the black sector of town was out to get him. That’s when Edgar packed up a suitcase with three of his new suits, all of his money and some Rita had been saving out of the money her mother gave her as an allowance. He kissed his wife’s cheek, patted his three-year-old son on the head, and left by the back door.