09 Dead Man Running, page 8
“Oh, I’ll get right on that, Torie. Like there’s nothing else on my plate other than my dead ancestors.”
I flinched at his words. It wasn’t so much what he said as how he said it. “Well, it’s not for me. It’s for Sam. He wants to do an article. Anyway, Bill’s family tree doesn’t add up.”
“What do you mean?” he asked.
“I mean, he’s got the birthplaces of himself, his father, and his grandfather down as New Kassel, but none of them was actually born here,” I said. “He says he filled out his chart to appeal to voters, but that doesn’t make sense because too many people are alive to remember that his father never lived in New Kassel. So I don’t know what’s going on, but …”
“But what?” he asked. He looked a bit more interested now, since it pertained directly to his opponent.
“It could be completely unrelated, but first we find two guys snooping around Bill’s house, and now I find these … lies on his family tree. It’s just weird.”
He considered what I said for a moment. “We have no reason to think the two are related in any way.”
“I know,” I said. “It just feels weird, and really, I’m wondering if Bill isn’t hiding something. I found his ancestors in St. Louis. Same names, same dates, same people. Just living in different places.”
“So what do you think he’s hiding? Something that could damage his career?” Colin asked, a little too gleefully.
“Well, yeah. I mean, what if his grandfather did something bad, and Bill just thought that if he changed the places his family members were born on his family tree, nobody would ever connect his grandfather to the rest of them,” I said.
“Something bad. As in how bad?”
“Colin!” I said. “I’m being serious.”
“So am I. Do you know what this could mean for me? You have to find out what it is.”
“So, since my ridiculous little hobby has turned up something you can use, suddenly you’re all for my snooping. Is that it?” I asked.
“Torie, it’s not like that.”
“Forget it,” I said. “Sorry I bothered you.” I turned to leave and saw Lou Counts standing outside the door like some sort of presidential bodyguard. I took a deep breath and opened the door. My intention was to keep right on walking by her. I had no idea what this woman’s problem was, but I wasn’t going to disturb the hornet’s nest, so to speak. She stopped me, though.
“Mrs. O’Shea,” she said, “you really shouldn’t bother the sheriff when he’s working. You do your job and let him do his.”
“You should really keep your nose where it belongs,” I said to her. Okay, talk about the pot calling the kettle black, but, boy, did she tick me off. “What is your problem with me?”
“Everybody in three counties knows how you interfere with Colin’s job. In fact, if he loses this election it will be because of his connection with you. He’s weak. You’ve made him weak. And people see it.”
“I’ll have you know that more than a few of Colin’s arrests and convictions were because of things I helped him find.”
She tsked at me. She actually tsked. “I’ve met plenty of your kind, Mrs. O’Shea. The law enforcement wannabes.”
“The what?” I screeched.
“When I’m sheriff—”
“You’ll what?” I asked.
She stepped up close to me and shoved her shoulders back, trying to appear as intimidating as she could. I had news for her. She didn’t need to shove her shoulders back to look intimidating. This woman was probably menacing in her sleep. “I’ll fix it so that you can’t even set foot in this building,” she said.
“Really?” I said. “Well, you just push me, Ms. Counts. Go right on ahead. I’ll make your life so miserable in this town, you’ll wish you’d never heard of New Kassel.”
“This happens to be Wisteria. And New Kassel is just a little town in a little county, and how much attention I give it will be my prerogative.”
“I think your underwear is too tight, Ms. Counts.”
“I oughta have you arrested,” she said and moved a hand to her cuffs.
“Go ahead, it’s not like I’ve never been arrested before.” I held my hands out.
About that time, Deputy Miller came trotting down the hall. “Hey, hey, hey, ladies,” he said, placing one hand on my shoulder and the other on Lou’s. “Let’s not do this.”
“See ya,” I said to Lou. I waved at her, a full five-fingered thank-you-very-much, and walked away. I don’t know what came over me, but when I got to my car I just sat there and cried for several minutes. Colin was acting like … well, like the jerk I always thought he was. Guess that’s what I got for starting to think he wasn’t completely slug material. Now I had to go and pick up my son at my mother’s and pretend her husband hadn’t just hurt my feelings beyond belief.
And I needed serious help where Lou Counts was concerned.
Eight
I’m going to hell,” I said.
Father Bingham smiled and motioned for me to take a seat. Matthew ran and sat on his lap, and I cringed at just how stranger-phobic my son wasn’t. Not that Father Bingham was a stranger, but still, it wasn’t like Matthew had seen him every day of his life, either. The priest gave him a hug and then set him on the floor, pulling a piece of Juicy Fruit from his pocket and handing it to him. Matthew said thank you and immediately shoved the gum into his mouth. I knew he would swallow it within five minutes. He hadn’t grasped the concept yet of something you chew without ingesting. He probably didn’t see the point, actually.
“Now what’s this all about?” Father Bingham asked. He had incredibly kind eyes behind his glasses. His office almost always smelled like pipe smoke.
For the record, I am not a Catholic. Rudy is a cradle Catholic, and we were married in the church, but I can’t even remember the last time I actually went to a service, if you don’t count funerals. Lately, though, I have found great solace in seeking out Father Bingham’s advice. Gone are the days when you’d go into a confessional and get out your list of sins, check them off, say your Hail Marys, and leave. The priests actually give advice and offer help on issues that people are struggling with. And let me tell you, I’ve been doing a lot of struggling lately.
“I hate Lou Counts,” I blurted. I explained to him who she was and what was going on. “I’ve tried to be nice to her. Twice. And she is so rude to me.”
“Chances are she feels threatened by you,” he said.
Matthew began running across the room as fast as he could, pretending he was blasting something, so spit was flying every which way. I took my cell phone out and set it on the game mode, and as he came by I grabbed his shirt collar and stopped him in midstride. “Here, play the game,” I said.
“Oh,” he said. He sat down on the floor, his eyes glazing over, and was happily lost in electronic land. Then I heard him gulp. There went the gum.
“Why should she feel threatened by me?” I asked. “The woman is armed! Do I look like I’m carrying an Uzi?”
“Because of your relationship with the townspeople and with the sheriff. You’re his stepdaughter. You’ve known him a long time, and regardless of what you think, you do have an influence over him. So does your mother. He wouldn’t be human if his family didn’t have some influence.”
“So? Why does that threaten her?”
“Maybe she thinks you’re going to try to control her once she’s in office.”
Those words made me cringe. “Why would I do that? I don’t control Colin, for crying out loud, or we wouldn’t have half of the arguments that we have,” I said.
“I’m not saying it’s logical. I’m telling you the emotion that she is most likely feeling. She also sounds like a career woman. She probably wants to eliminate anything that might stand in the way of her success. That would be you,” he said.
“Why me?”
“Torie,” he said, “we all know your penchant for snooping.”
“Oh,” I said.
“Most people, when they are rude to you, or behave in an unfriendly or unkind manner, or even talk about you in a mean way to others, usually do so because they feel threatened or they’re jealous. Simple as that.”
“So what am I supposed to do about it? And why do I have to pay the price because she’s too much of a baby to quit being jealous?” I said.
“We’ve had this discussion before,” he said. “When your mother-in-law was in town, remember? I don’t know what it will take to make Ms. Counts secure enough that she won’t feel threatened. I’d like to think God could help her, or God’s love, but I honestly don’t know.”
I was quiet a moment. “Do you think I’ve made Colin … weak?”
“Is that what she said to you?” he said. His face turned a shade darker.
“Yes,” I said, fighting back tears. “Father, I never meant to—”
“Nonsense. What’s the matter with that woman? You’ve not made Colin weak, Torie. No, you keep him honest.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, feeling more confused by the minute.
“You’ve made him better at his job. You’ve made him look for things in places he never used to look,” he said.
“Really?” I asked.
“That’s not to say that you’re not a busybody, because you are, but definitely you make him double-check his facts, and that’s a good thing in law enforcement. That’s a good thing in politics, too.”
“So am I or am I not going to hell for hating this woman?” I asked.
“As always, Torie, you can’t control how you feel about her, but you can control how you react to her,” he said.
“You’re so smart,” I said.
“What? You think they hand these collars out in a Cracker Jack box?”
I thanked him for his help and left. I thought about what he’d said as I drove. I couldn’t control how I felt about her, but I could control how I reacted to her.
I finally made it to the Gaheimer House long after dinner. I got online and looked up the Social Security death indexes. I did not find one for Chester Castlereagh, which is not unusual, because people born back when he was born did not always have a Social Security number. However, I did not find one for Jarvis, either, and he had been born in 1924. It could be that he died in a different state, or later than Bill had reported. I kept checking, and I finally found a listing for Jarvis Castlereagh in 1988 in St. Louis County. He was the only Jarvis Castlereagh that I found, so I knew it had to be him.
I’ve never been one for math, but it didn’t take a mathematician to figure out that 1953 and 1988 have a lot of years in between them. How on earth could Bill possibly have gotten the two years mixed up?
I checked the index for his mother, Lucy. Supposedly she had died in 1968. No listing. None whatsoever.
I got up and went to get a Dr Pepper. I came back to my desk and pondered everything I’d found. I realized that I was spending a lot of time on this and that I wasn’t transcribing the church records like I should have been doing. Of course, the world wouldn’t end if I didn’t get the church records done, but I’d set a self-imposed deadline, and I hate missing a self-imposed anything. That’s why I get things done. Of course, that’s probably why I eat Mylanta tablets like candy, too.
I sighed heavily and heard a knock at the door. I ran through the sitting room and foyer to answer it. “Hi,” Sam Hill said. “I saw your light was on. Can I come in?”
“Sure,” I said. “Come on back to my office.”
He followed me to the hallway, where I stopped. “Can I get you something to drink?” I asked.
“No, thanks,” he said.
“Well, come on in, then,” I said. “What can I do for you?”
“Well, I was sort of wondering where you were at on that project I asked you to do,” he said, scratching his head nonchalantly.
“Sam, I’m telling you, something’s weird.”
“I knew it,” he said. “What did you find?”
“Well, nothing, really. That’s the problem. I mean, these people on his family tree are real. Jarvis Castlereagh is his father, but he wasn’t born in Granite County, he was born in St. Louis City, and now I’ve gone and found that he didn’t die in the year Bill said he died.”
“Why would he lie about when his father died?” Sam asked.
“Maybe he didn’t want any of us to know his father was still alive.”
“Why?” Sam asked, sitting in the chair opposite my desk. His eyes glistened with anticipation.
“I’m thinking his father wasn’t all that respectable.”
Sam smiled.
“Now, Sam,” I said. “That’s not nice. And I can’t stand the guy.”
“You don’t understand,” he said. “Bill has been an arrogant jerk since he took office in 1988. I’ve waited and waited for something to cook his goose with. Now I might actually have something. So, what do you think the nature of this is?”
I shrugged. “I think he didn’t want anybody in this town to know who his parents were. I couldn’t tell you the reason. In order to do that, I’d have pore through the St. Louis newspapers until I found something. And that,” I said, “you can do yourself.”
“What do you mean?” he asked.
“Hey, genealogy is my specialty. I’ll continue with anything pertaining to genealogy and ancestors and cemeteries. The newspaper is your specialty. You go look up the names and see what you can find,” I said.
“All right,” he said. “That’s fair. Give me the new dates.”
I wrote down what I supposed was the correct date of death for Bill’s father, as well as the addresses where his father and grandfather lived during the census years. I handed him the piece of paper and smiled. “How’s Stacey?” I asked.
“I think she’ll be okay,” he said. “Any news on who the dead guy is?”
“No,” I said. “At least if there is, Colin isn’t sharing.”
Sam raised his eyebrows and his forehead wrinkled. “Hmmm. Well, will you get back to me as soon as you find anything else?” he asked.
“Yes,” I said. There was an awkward pause. “Sam, what’s this really all about?”
Sam smiled at me and leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “Intuition is the greatest asset to a reporter. Actually, it’s a pretty good asset to have if you’re a politician or a doctor or a cop. I think it’s served you pretty well, too. You ever get ahold of an ancestor on your tree or even somebody else’s tree and you just think to yourself, Something doesn’t feel right?”
“Yes. All the time,” I said.
“I’ve been telling myself that something didn’t feel right with Bill for about five years now. I’m not sure what it was. Maybe it’s the fact that he conveniently has no family. Have you ever noticed that? He has two brothers. One lives in Alaska and the other one lives in Florida? Come on, what are the chances of that? Those are the farthest two points from St. Louis that you can get, except Hawaii. Both of his parents are dead. All of his grandparents are dead, and he doesn’t seem to have one cousin or aunt or uncle, either. It just doesn’t feel right,” he said.
“That’s why you asked for the family tree info, isn’t it? Not because you wanted to write a piece but because you suspected something wasn’t right with his family.”
“I do want to write a piece, Torie. Don’t get me wrong. I love this town. I love my job. But if I could actually write a story about something other than whose hog got first place at the county fair or how many cans of apple butter we sold at the last Octoberfest, I would die a happy man,” he said.
“And the fact that you dislike the mayor—a lot—has nothing to do with it?”
“That doesn’t hurt,” he said.
“Well, I’ll let you know the second I find out anything. You let me know what you uncover, too. Because you never know. It might lead me in the right direction to figure out what’s going on.”
“I will,” he said. He stood then and headed for the door. “Hey, is your mother entering the recipe contest for best apple and pumpkin butter this year?”
“I’m fairly certain,” I said.
“Man, that woman can cook,” he said with a dreamy look.
“I know.”
“Tell Rudy hello,” he said.
“I will,” I said.
He left, and I was back to staring at the computer screen wondering what I was missing. Sam Hill hadn’t a clue how right he was. Something just didn’t feel right.
THE NEW KASSEL GAZETTE
The News You Might Miss
By Eleanore Murdoch
I certainly hope that future parades do not end as abruptly or as violently as the one we had this year! I’ve decided to take a philosophical angle rather than a graphic one on this subject. What effect will this dead man have on our marching band? Who was the dead man who bounced on the concrete, after all? We must think long and hard on these engrossing questions. Since the judging for best float was done before the parade started, the Girl Scout troop won first place for the best float and second place was none other than our future mayor’s, Colin Brooke!
Matilda Nichols is making her one-of-a-kind handmade Halloween costumes again this year. Make sure you get in line to get one. I went as a sunflower last year!
Everybody go on by and give a big New Kassel welcome to Tiny Tim Julep, the owner of the new shop, Tiny Tim’s Tobacco.
And I hear from the grapevine that we are getting a new bead shop next month. Just in time to make gifts for Christmas!
Don’t forget to vote!
Until next time,
Eleanore
Nine
The next few days went by without much incident. Rachel was a bit more withdrawn than usual but seemed to perk up when Riley was around. So, believe it or not, I actually invited Riley over for dinner one night. Of my own accord. It seemed to make things … lighter.
