J. Margos - Shattered Image

Susan Gordon was an old friend of Leo’s and ran the place. At night, there was live music out on the deck with a breathtaking view of the water. The deck was almost at lake level, and you could come to Gordon’s by boat and dock at the far end. People packed Susan’s place for lunch, dinner and late-night snacks. It was a local favorite, and definitely one of my favorites because of the lake view.

We sat outdoors. The daytime chill was giving way to more moderate spring temperatures, and the Texas sun was unencumbered that day. We had all ordered our food and the iced tea had been delivered to the table, when Chris broke the news.

“I got the soil sample results back from A &M. They say that both sets of bones contain soil samples that are exact matches.”

“And the location?” I asked.

“One set of soil samples is from this area, and the other soil shows composition similar to soils that would be found in and around Hempstead.”

“Where Brian Ferguson was living at the time of his death,” I said.

“Exactly,” Chris responded.

“Then Addie Waldrep and Brian Ferguson were buried in that area, which means it’s probably where they were both killed,” Leo said.

“The burning question now is, what was Addie doing down near Hempstead with Brian Ferguson?” I asked.

“Yeah, and where is Doug Hughes?” Chris asked.

“Well, if he’s still alive, who knows where he is or how to find him, but…” Leo trailed off.

“If he’s dead, he’s probably buried in Hempstead?” Chris asked.

“Or, he could be reburied somewhere here,” I said.

“I’d say it’s fifty-fifty,” Leo agreed. “If the killer dug them all up trying to get to Brian, and then reburied Addie, he might have done the same with Doug, if Doug is dead.”

“But we haven’t found any more bones,” Chris said.

“Not yet,” I offered. “And if the killer intended them to wash away like Addie’s, then we may never find them.”

“He might have even reburied them on Red Bud and they already washed away,” Leo said.

Chris shook her head. “There was no evidence of that at that site, but he could have reburied them nearby.”

“If the chance is fifty-fifty, then I’d say our chances are better in Hempstead,” I said.

“How do you figure that?” Leo asked.

“No matter where any of them were reburied, there is an original burial site probably in Hempstead.”

“True,” Leo agreed.

“How accurate are the soil samples from A &M?” I asked.

“Accurate? Depends on what you mean by that. If you mean will they swear by their results, then they will,” Chris said.

“I guess what I really mean is how close can you narrow it down to the exact site.”

“You can’t do that, Toni,” Chris said. “They’re accurate as to the part of Texas, even to a reasonably small region, like the area around Hempstead, but that’s all.”

“Then we couldn’t possibly use the sample to narrow our search for the burial site.”

“No. You still have hundreds of acres or more to consider based on this soil sample, and that’s as ‘accurate’ as it will ever get. Well, unless we knew the site, and we could take a sample from it and do a comparison.”

“If we can find the site, we could probably literally dig up more evidence-more clues. Is that what you’re thinking?” Leo asked.

I nodded, sighed and ran my fingers through my hair. Then something occurred to me.

“Maybe we don’t need soil samples to narrow the search.”

“What do you mean?” Leo said expectantly.

“The site might be one where Brian liked to go. You know, a place he would take someone like Addie.”

“He lived there, Toni. His mother told Tommy and Mike he hiked all over that area bird-watching. It could be anywhere.”

“Not necessarily. Bird-watchers usually go to specific places looking for specific species. Besides, I remember Mike and Tommy telling me that Brian did his bird-watching with some of his local friends. If he had particular places he liked to go to see certain birds, they would know. His mother might even know, if we asked that question.”

“You’re going to go talk to his mother, aren’t you?” Leo asked.

“Well, I think I need to talk to Brian’s mother, and maybe even some of the good people of Hempstead. I think I can start with Mrs. Ferguson and find out what she knows, and if she can tell me who Brian’s good friends were. Then I can look them up and have a chat with them.”

“Mike and Tommy will love that,” Chris said, rolling her eyes.

Leo snickered. “They gave us permission before.”

“I want to do this on my own this time, Leo. I’ve been wanting to talk to Mrs. Ferguson anyway. I’ll ask Mike and Tommy before I do anything, but I really did wish I could sit down and have a woman-to-woman talk with Mrs. Ferguson. You know, one widow to another, one mother to another. This would be a good opportunity for that.”

I smiled and raised my eyebrows. Chris and Leo just shook their heads and smiled back. About that time, lunch was brought to the table and we dug in.

After lunch was over, I decided I needed another drive to Viola. I had a couple of questions for my new friend Doris. I wanted more information on any possible connection between Addie and Brian before I went to Houston to talk to Mrs. Ferguson.

The drive took about an hour. I hadn’t had dessert after my lunch with Chris and Leo, and all I could think of was Doris’s awesome apple pie. I hoped there was some left after her lunch crowd.

I pulled off the interstate and headed up the county road that led to Viola. I turned off on the main road that was downtown Viola. I pulled up in front of the café, easily finding a parking spot. The lunch crowd had dissipated, so I knew that Doris would have some time to spend with me. I hopped out of the Mustang and strode to the front door, and was greeted heartily by Doris. I assumed my usual spot at the lunch counter. Doris was already dishing up my pie.

Doris slid my slab of apple pie across the counter and winked. “There you go, hon.”

“Ah, the famous pie.” I smacked my lips as I picked up my fork.

“Well, I haven’t ever had someone drive over sixty miles for my pie.”

“Well, you have now.”

“Darlin’, I know my pie is good, but it ain’t that good. You’ve got more questions for old Doris, don’t you?”

I chuckled. She was a sweet, country-café proprietor who smelled like everyone’s grandma-and she had a mind sharp as a razor blade.

“Well, Doris, I do have a question or two, but I salivated over this pie all the way here. I could have just called you with my questions, you know.” I smiled as I shoveled in another mouthwatering piece.

“True.” Doris smiled back as she made a loud pop on her chewing gum. “Well, then, I guess questions or no, my pie does have some drawing power after all.”

“Absolutely.”

“Well, hon, what is it you wanted to know?”

“I guess you heard on the news about the second body found.”

“Oh yes. I heard. Some young man from Houston?”

“That’s right. We think he was killed by accident, but I just want to make sure that he wasn’t someone Addie knew, or someone who had ever been seen around here.”

“What was the boy’s name again?”

“Brian Ferguson.”

Doris pursed her lips and then shook her head, “No, hon, that just don’t sound familiar at all. Do you have a picture of him? I saw it on TV the other night, but I wasn’t looking that close and I’ve slept a few times since then.” She smacked and then popped her gum.

I did have Brian’s picture with me. It was a copy of the Texas driver’s-license photo that Chris had given me. I pulled the picture out of my wallet and handed it over to Doris.