Scrapbook of the Dead (15 page)

“Annie seems mighty excited about something,” Jon said after Beatrice hung up the phone.

Beatrice nodded. “Last night, she found the Martelino sisters' roommate and she's going to visit her tomorrow over at the Riverside Apartments.”

“You look worried,” Jon said.

“Well, hells bells. All I've been hearing about is that there's gangs over there. I hope she takes someone with her.”

“She should take Bryant,” Jon said. “He's a good officer.”

“I thought he was transferring to Charlottesville or somewhere. Wonder what happened,” Beatrice said. “Anyway, he's unpleasant and Annie really doesn't like him. Maybe she'll take the sheriff over with her.”

“You know, last night when I went to the grocery store, I saw Detective Bryant at the store. He had a bottle of wine and flowers. Romance is in the air,” Jon said, moving his eyebrows around in a peculiar way.

“I can't imagine,” Beatrice said, ignoring the eyebrow thing. “Poor woman.”

“Everybody deserves a little romance in their lives.” Jon grinned, then reached over and grabbed her hand. “Look at us,
mon amie
.”

Beatrice warmed. It was true that most people wondered what Jon saw in her. She was certain half the town thought she was a crazy old lady who liked to talk about the universe and tell people exactly what she thought. “Well, now, that's true. To the outside world we may not look well-suited . . .”

“But who cares about them?” Jon said, lifting his chin.

“Indeed. How about some lunch?”

“What do you have in mind?”

“Egg salad on rye bread, followed by some apple pie.”

“
Oui.
”

Beatrice puttered around in the kitchen with Jon on her heels. They worked together to create lunch and then sat down to eat.

“The other thing that Annie found out is that a lot of these immigrants are living together to make ends meet. There were four women at the crop last night who share a two-bedroom apartment,” Beatrice said.

Jon shrugged. “Not pleasant, I'm sure. But that's not too bad. I've heard of two or three entire families sharing an apartment.”

“My understanding is that there are laws to prevent that,” Beatrice said.

“I don't know. It may be up to the landlords.”

“Who is the landlord over there, again?” Beatrice sorted through her creaky brain. “Oh yes, I wanted to look this up. It's the Kraft Corporation and I wondered if it's Pamela's Krafts.”

She rose from the table and walked to her desktop computer. Within a few moments, she had ascertained that yes, it was indeed the same company. She remembered that they were the ones who'd bought the Drummonds' property. The Drummonds and the Krafts? Something about that made her very uncomfortable. She couldn't quite say why. On a lark, she typed in the names and
Cumberland Creek
. The search engine brought up a number of things. As she read over the list, it hit her with a stone-cold thud.

She remembered. But Lawd, she was a child then. Could it be the Krafts still had it in for the Drummonds and that's why they were so determined to get hold of all the Drummonds' property? It couldn't be; surely she was an old fool with an overactive imagination.

“Edward Drummond Convicted of Murdering 16-year-old Jenny Kraft.” Jon read aloud, coming up behind her. “Oh my goodness.”

Next on the list of articles was an academic paper entitled “The Drummonds and the Krafts: How a Young Woman's Death Led to One Family's Downfall.”

“Ridiculous,” Beatrice said. “That happened so long ago. Besides, the Krafts have more money than God. No family fell, like what that article claims.” She looked up at Jon, whose eyes were lit with curiosity. “But, here, let me think. The patriarch of the Kraft family owns some land over there by the Drummonds. Maybe the Drummonds bought that land from them. Maybe the Krafts did have a hard time at one point. I just don't know.”

“It's unlike you to not know everybody's business,” Jon said with a knowing look.

“We were never that close with the Krafts,” Beatrice went on. “Daddy never liked them—and my first husband didn't care for them one way or the other. Said they were bootleggers. Said their moonshine had sent more than one person over the edge.”

“There you have it,” Jon said. “History is poking at us again.”

“Around here, it feels like I'm living history,” Beatrice said.

“So, was Rosa on the list of people who bought that paper from Sheila?” DeeAnn asked.

“No,” Annie said, sitting down at the crop table.

They were all sitting in Sheila's basement, like they did most Saturday nights. Karen had driven DeeAnn over and made certain she was situated before she left.

“Are you certain you don't want to stay?” Randy had asked her.

“I have plans,” said Karen.

“A hot date,” DeeAnn said.

“Yes, so hot that I'm coming back at eleven to pick up my mommy,” Karen said and smiled. Her blond hair was swept up off her long neck.

Gosh, DeeAnn loved her daughter's nice, long neck—inherited from her father, Jacob, who was as tall and skinny as DeeAnn was round.

“See you later,” Karen said and then walked out.

“Who is she seeing tonight?” Vera asked.

“I have no idea,” DeeAnn responded. “I don't know if I even have a right to ask, you know? I mean she'll soon be twenty-six. She lives on her own. It's none of my business. But I am dying to know.”

“Do you hear that, Mom?” Randy put in.

Paige appeared to not be paying attention, but she grunted.

Once the group had settled in—photos and paper pulled out and placed on the table—DeeAnn cleared her throat. “I do wish Karen would tell me who it is. I mean, is she deliberately keeping it secret?”

“Probably not,” Randy said. “She probably doesn't know where the relationship's going and doesn't think it's worth telling you about.”

“That's probably it,” Annie said. “Did you tell your mom every time you went out on a date?”

DeeAnn blushed. “I didn't date that much. But yes, I did tell her.”

“Me, too,” Vera said. “I couldn't keep a secret from my mom if I tried.” She stood up and headed for the counter in the small kitchenette. Sheila kept it well-stocked with food and drinks. “Can I get you something, DeeAnn?”

“Not right now, thanks.”

“So what was the crop like last night?” Sheila asked, looking at Annie over the glasses perched on her nose.

“Interesting,” Annie said.

“I loved it,” Randy replied. “They played cool music, had great food, and they were a fun bunch of women.”

“I agree,” Annie said. “And I had a breakthrough with Rosa. I'm going to visit her tomorrow. She roomed with the Martelinos and seemed very willing to talk with me.”

“Did you find out anything else about them while you were there?”

“They loved to scrapbook,” Randy chimed in.

“I'm hoping to see some more of their scrapbooks tomorrow,” Annie said, opening the Halloween book she was working on.

“I can't believe Halloween is next week,” Vera said. “I still don't have Lizzie's costume finished.”

“Are you taking her to the fire hall community party?” DeeAnn asked.

Vera nodded. “We'll trick or treat a little around the neighborhood, then we'll go to the fire hall. It sounds like fun. Prizes. Games. And it's safe. We won't have to go through all the candy and so on.”

“These books will be cool once we get some photos for them,” Annie said.

“I'm thinking of doing a seasonal book,” Paige said. “You know, instead of organizing books by specific holidays, doing it by seasons.”

“I like that idea,” Cookie said.

“You always loved Halloween,” Annie said to her.

Cookie nodded. “I think you're right. I'm so excited about Halloween. I can't wait to see Lizzie and the boys dressed up.”

“Oh, it was more than that,” Vera said a bit wistfully. “We were all involved one year in this ritual at my place. Do you remember that?”

Cookie's head tilted, her brows knitted.

“You called it a Samhain ritual. It was quite lovely,” Vera said. “Very moving.”

The room quieted.

“I have an idea,” Annie said. “Let's do it again.”

“The ritual?” Cookie asked.

Annie nodded. “I think I can remember enough to do it again. And maybe it will jog some memories, Cookie.”

Cookie was biting her lip, but she looked up at Annie with a glimmer of hope in her eyes. “Maybe.”

“Being a witch was so important to you,” Vera said. “We thought you were half batty when you first started talking about it, but you taught me so much. Well, all of us. Maybe . . . I mean, since it meant so much to you . . . maybe the memories will come back.”

“You know,” Paige said. “I think about that night sometimes. It seemed like time stood still briefly.”

“And then all hell broke loose,” added Sheila.

You're not kidding. All hell really did break loose
, Annie thought, then took an orange jeweled embellishment and placed it next to her empty frame. The cops had interrupted their Samhain ritual, Cookie was carted off to jail for a murder she didn't commit, and then she escaped—or was taken. The next thing Annie knew, Bryant told her that he knew where Cookie was, but he couldn't tell her. Then Cookie had just shown up at their crop a few months ago. She said she had been struck by lightning and had lost much of her memory.

Cookie certainly did not seem like herself in many ways. But then again, many of the croppers had changed over the years. Sheila was now tending her sick daughter, along with the rest of her family, still running her scrapbook supply company and working as a designer. She appeared as if all the energy had been zapped from her. Paige, on the other hand, seemed more happy and content than Annie had ever seen her. Was that all because Randy had come back to town?

Annie looked at Vera, who was turning a page on her Halloween scrapbook. She was definitely happier than Annie had ever known her to be now that she was living with Eric in his house in the mountains. But she refused to marry him and that made Annie smile.

And then there was DeeAnn. Poor DeeAnn and her back. Her brows were knit together and she grimaced.

“Are you okay?” Annie said, reaching for a chip.

“The pain medicine just isn't enough,” DeeAnn responded. “They won't give me what I need. I think I might find another doctor.”

“Well, I would,” Paige said. “If you're in pain and they won't give you anything for it.”

“Land sakes,” DeeAnn said. “I'm a grown woman. I'm also a big woman. Stands to reason I need more medicine than the average woman.”

“That pain medicine is very addictive,” Sheila said, looking out over her laptop. “They're probably doing the right thing.”

“But she's in pain,” Paige said, getting up with her empty glass from the table. “Can I get anybody anything?”

“More wine, please,” DeeAnn said and handed over her glass.

“I don't think it would hurt for you to talk to your doctor,” Annie said. “But it also wouldn't hurt to get a second opinion.”

“True,” Sheila said. “God knows, it took us awhile to find the right doctor for Donna. And we think we finally found the right medicine. She's been stable for awhile. Though she still has moments . . . when she just sort of... stares off into space.”

“Because of the medication?” Annie asked.

“It could be that or it could be a part of the way her epilepsy is manifesting. In any case, she can't go to school like that,” said Sheila. “She can't be away from home. I'm afraid she may have to give up that scholarship.” Her voice cracked. “The world was at her feet.”

“But she is still alive,” Cookie offered.

Sheila reached out and grabbed Cookie's hand. “Yes,” she said in a hoarse voice.

“So what's going on with the Martelino cases?” Paige said after several moments. “What do we know?”

“Speaking of sad,” Annie said. “The women we met last night were so sad.”

“Angry, too,” Randy said.

“Did they have any idea who may have killed the women?” Paige asked.

“If they did, they didn't tell us,” Randy said.

“But they did tell us some important things. They were a part of a community—a community I never knew even existed right here in Cumberland Creek. They were loved—which makes it all the worse,” Annie said.

“It doesn't seem like they ever dated,” Randy said.

“Well, apparently they did have men interested in them from time to time, but nothing serious. So far, the only connection is that they are sisters that like to scrapbook,” Annie said, pausing a few beats. “You know, Pamela had mentioned to me that she has a problem with her foreign workers disappearing. Just not showing up. Not giving a notice or anything. Have there been any cases like that since you've been there?” She looked at Randy.

“Yes. One woman disappeared shortly after I started working there. I remember her vividly because she spoke perfect English and was very friendly, then didn't show up one day. Pamela was livid.”

“Pamela has a temper, it seems,” Paige said.

“Oh boy, does she ever. Sometimes she behaves like a spoiled kid,” Randy said. “I like her most of the time, but I've seen that temper flare. And it's not pretty.”

“So we have no boyfriends and no leads,” DeeAnn said. “But there is Hathaway Transatlantic. I'm with your mom on that,” she said to Vera. “Something strange going on there.”

“Oh I agree,” Vera said. “But what? It's a huge company with offices all over the world. Yet, when Mama was looking for info, they couldn't find records of the Martelino sisters.”

“Why would the company want to kill those girls anyway? That doesn't make sense,” Annie said. “Why would two women living and working in Cumberland Creek warrant that kind of attention?”

The room silenced momentarily.

“It was probably some crazy guy who lives here,” Vera said, breaking the quiet. “Someone like Leo Shirley. Yeah, maybe it was him.” She could convince herself of any number of suspects. Any time there was a murder, Leo's name came up on her list of suspects. He was the town drunk and had a troubled existence. So far, though, he hadn't killed anyone.

Annie waved her off. “How many times have we tried to pin something on him? He's not good, that's for sure, but I don't think he has it in him these days to get up off the couch, let alone kill someone.”

The women giggled around the table and murmured agreement with Annie.

“So there is still a killer out there. There's some lunatic running around Cumberland Creek.” Vera said.

“I'm betting it has something to do with the gangs,” Paige said.

Just then the door flew open. It was Karen.

DeeAnn looked at her watch. “Oh, you're a bit early.”

“Just a bit,” Karen said. “I thought you might need help gathering your stuff up.”

“What I need is another pill,” said DeeAnn.

“You can have one when you get home,” Karen told her, starting to help gather her mother's things.

“How was the date?” Annie couldn't resist asking.

“Fine,” Karen said. “Until he got a call and had to leave. Happens every time.”

“What kind of call?” DeeAnn said, shoving her papers into her bag.

“I'm not sure. He doesn't talk about cop business too much.”

The women all stilled.

“You're dating a cop?” Randy said.

“Yeah. It's not a big secret, is it?” she said, shoving a scrapbook into another one of DeeAnn's bags.

Nobody moved a muscle.

“Actually you haven't said anything about him to me. I didn't know he was a cop,” DeeAnn managed to say.

But Annie could see the wheels in her head turning. Who could it be?

“Yeah,” Karen said. “I'm dating Adam Bryant. You know him, right?”

Annie's heart nearly stopped beating as some of the women gasped. DeeAnn's face turned bright red and her mouth dropped. Annie had never seen her speechless before.