Beverly Connor - Dust to Dust

“What’s the interesting turn of events?” asked Diane. She didn’t particularly like the word interesting used in that context. It usually meant something unpleasant.

“The shoe print we collected from the Lassiter murder today was made by the same hiking boot from the Payden attack. Think we got some punks targeting little old ladies?” he said.

“That is a surprise,” Diane said. “Have you processed any of the other evidence?”

“Yes, but the print is the only really valuable thing I’ve found. It was a fairly clean crime scene. Like someone slipped in and out without touching much.”

“I need to call Hanks,” said Diane. “I’m glad you called me with this. Oh, before you hang up, Neva might be being followed by someone in a black SUV with tinted windows.” She stopped and looked over to Neva. “Did you get the make?”

“Cadillac Escalade,” said Neva.

Diane told Izzy the make. “Have you noticed anyone following you?” she asked.

“No, but I’ll be on the lookout. Escalade. That’s kind of expensive, isn’t it?” he said. “I’ll watch for a tail. Did she get the license number?”

“No,” said Diane.

“Like I said, I’ll keep a lookout.”

After she hung up with Izzy, Diane told the others about the boot print.

“You’re kidding,” said Neva. “The same person as here?”

“What do you think?” said David.

“Izzy was wondering if it might be someone targeting elderly ladies, but I don’t think he knows about the historical society connection. Marcella went to the historical society too, when she was looking into who owned the house. She was asking about the artist who lived here, as well. That seems to be a key-”

Diane’s phone rang again. This time it was from an unknown wireless caller. She answered.

“Yes?”

“Is this Dr. Fallon? This is Delbert Griffin, the paramedic who keeps showing up.” He gave a little laugh. “I asked my granny about that woman’s name, and she doesn’t remember. She said she thought it was something like a bird, but that didn’t sound right to her either. She said it’s been more than sixty years. She and her friends just called her the ‘rich witch.’ Knowing my granny, she might have had another word in there too, that rhymed. Granny was somewhat of a rascal when she was young.”

“Did she say how old the woman was?” asked Diane.

“I asked her if the ‘witch’ was real old. She said at the time she thought she was, but she was a teenager, and everyone over thirty looked old. Now that she looks back, she thinks she wasn’t all that old. Granny’s in her seventies, so I don’t know what ‘not all that old’ means to her. I suppose anybody younger than she is.”

“You and your grandmother have been very helpful,” said Diane. “Thank you for calling. If the name comes to her, please let me know.”

“I will. You know, when somebody is asked to come up with those old memories, they don’t come to the surface right away. It might be that she’ll wake up in the morning and it’ll come to her,” he said.

“I hope so. Is Hector doing okay?” asked Diane.

“He’s in pretty good shape, really. He and his brother are a hoot,” he said.

Diane agreed, thanked him again, and hung up.

“Marcella told us the signature on the paintings was a drawing of a bird,” said Diane, after she told the others what the call was about. “It looks like the artist we are looking for had somewhat of a reputation at one time.” Diane stopped and stared at Neva.

“What?” asked Neva.

“What you said about the Lassiter woman talking like a magpie. A magpie is a bird.”

The three of them looked at Diane with a great deal of skepticism.

“That’s a stretch,” said David. “It doesn’t even make sense.”

“No. The word just reminded me of something. Initials. The first three letters of magpie are m-a-g . What if she used the bird drawing as a kind of symbolic representation of her initials?”

“Who?” said David. “What are you talking about?”

“The writer of the note on the bottom of the desk drawer,” said Neva. “MAG. Remember? So, she was the artist?”

“Maybe,” said Diane. “It’s just a thought.”

“A good one,” said Neva.

David still looked skeptical, but relented that it was a possibility.

“I need to give Hanks a call. He needs to know about the connection between the crimes so he can coordinate with Hall County.”

Diane started to key in his number when headlights came up the drive.

“That must be the policemen coming back from their rounds,” she said.

“No,” said David, standing up. “Everybody in the house! Now!”

They didn’t linger. All four of them jumped to their feet and headed for the door. David was the closest and reached the door first. He opened it and pulled everyone in, turned out the lights, and locked the door.

“Everybody stay away from the front windows,” he said in an urgent half whisper.

“Okay,” Diane whispered back from the darkness of the dining room. “Why are we here?”

“Those headlights aren’t from the police car,” said David. “They’re set too high.”

He stood near the doorway trying to see out the window. The lights went dark and they heard a door slam. Diane’s heart beat faster. Neva, next to Diane, had her hand under her coat, ready to pull out her off-duty weapon. Diane could see Mike looking around the room, probably searching for a possible weapon. Knowing him, he probably didn’t really believe anything was wrong, but he wouldn’t be taking any chances.

“You mean like an SUV,” said Neva.

“Yes,” said David, “just like an SUV.”

Diane had to admire David for noticing. She hadn’t. Well, hell . She was about to assess what weapons they could lay their hands on, when a loud banging on the front door interrupted her thoughts. All of them stood stiff, waiting.

“What the hell are you guys doing in there?”

Detective Hanks.

David turned on the light and found all of them staring at him. He winced and rubbed his hand over his balding head.

“Well, I’m not right all the time.” He shrugged. “I never said I was. Sometimes paranoia is just that. Besides, had it been the bad guys, we would be safe.”

Mike visibly relaxed his tense body. Neva shook her head and opened the door. Detective Hanks was standing on the porch looking puzzled. He wasn’t wearing his neck brace, but his arm was still immobilized in a sling and he favored his wounded leg.

“What was that all about?” he said. “I drive up and all of you make a mad dash for the house and turn off the lights?”

Diane smiled at him. “You have a new haircut,” she said, and invited him into the house.

He stroked his short hair. “When your arm’s in a sling and you’re limping from being shot in the leg, you can’t afford to have your hair standing up on end or blowing in the wind like a wild man,” he said. “Now, what the heck…? You guys looked like you were running for your lives. Who were you expecting?” He had the twinkle of amusement in his eyes.

Diane explained about the possibility of Neva being followed.

“My SUV’s not black,” he said.

“It’s pitch-dark out. You can’t make out colors in the dark,” said Diane. “And your headlights were blinding.”

“But that’s still quite an overreaction,” he said.

“Not considering we were shot at and a man was killed last time we were here,” said Diane. “You aren’t going to let us live this down, are you?”

“Not on your life. You should have seen you guys.” He grinned. “And who are you? Just so I can get the story right,” he asked Mike.