Heavens To Bribery, page 20
“My gosh, Mama.” I used the back of my hand to wipe the lipstick clear across my face and along my arm. “This stuff is thick as cement, and I look like a clown.”
“Taven might call you Sheriff Clown Kenni,” Mama snickered and stood behind me. “I know it’s not funny, but it is. Here.”
“You aren’t going to do this to me a second time,” I said. This time, I looked at the rolled-up lipstick before applying a very faint shade of pink that didn’t look half bad.
“What’s this?” Mama stuck her big nosy hand into my bag and pulled out those old photos Tom had me pick up last night.
“Mama, that’s all evidence.” I shook my head and grabbed the edge of the photo to get her grubby hands off of it.
“Evidence?” Mama was very interested in the photo and didn’t let go, even when I tugged a little harder to get it back. “What on earth does Cybil Childress have to do with your investigation?”
“Who?” I should’ve known Mama knew who was in the photo.
“Well, I'll be corn-swoggled!” Poppa’s familiar voice caught my ear, as did a dancing Duke.
“Look at that. That internet was right about them treats.” Mama smacked my arm, and we both looked in astonishment. She was looking at Duke, and I was looking at Poppa, wondering where he’d been. “Kenni, do you think I should open up a dog bakery and make some of them biscuits?”
“No, Mama. Who is Cybil Childress?” I asked.
“I knew I recognized that woman, but she was always so busy doing the books down at the bank that I rarely saw her. The only time she crawled out of the basement of the bank was when she snuck into Junior Burton’s car.” Poppa and Mama were talking at the same time.
“Focus on me, Kenni.” Mama meant for me to look at her and not past her to where Poppa was standing.
They both continued to talk, confusing me.
“It was no secret she and Junior were having that affair for all of them years. There were rumors about photos and Vernon catching them in the act…” Poppa trailed off.
“And?” I asked him.
“Poor Vernon. I don’t think he ever got over it, but no one talked about it. When his mama got ill, he stuck her in a nursing home and never went to see her.” Mama sighed. “You aren’t going to put in me that old nursing home, are you?”
“Are you cheating on Daddy and lying on a bear skin rug?” I asked Mama.
“Don’t I wish I were that exciting,” she teased. “Now, what does this photo of Cybil Childress have to do with your investigation? She’s been dead for years.”
“Dilbert Thistle couldn’t get a loan but only one way. If those photos got leaked and Vernon Bishop never got over his Mama’s indiscretions, well, I guess that would be somethin’.” Poppa smacked his hands together. “Look at the killer’s note and compare it to the scribble Vernon gave you.”
Mama was yammering on, but it was only background noise as I pulled out the killer’s note Tom had given me with the nude photo. I also took out my little notebook. I’d stuck Vernon’s scribble, which included Dilbert’s account number, in there.
Poppa ghosted over and stood next to me. We both took in each note.
At the same time, we said, “Vernon Bishop.”
CHAPTER 23
I kissed Mama on the cheek and grabbed the bag and keys.
“Mama, can you watch Duke until the doctor calls with the results of those blood tests you had her take?” I said.
She stammered a few moans, but I cut her off.
“Thank you. You’re going to be a wonderful granny to my children,” I replied.
That perked her right up.
“Yes I am, and I’m a good fur grammy too,” I heard her say when I got out the door.
“Where have you been?” I asked my ghost poppa. “I’m not married yet.”
“I was giving you some thinking time and wondering how you would do without me around.” He’d already wisped into the truck before I could get the driver’s-side door open.
As I eased the old Jeep Wagoneer onto Free Row, the sun beamed overhead, casting a vibrant glow across the small, joyful town of Cottonwood. Cottonwood was the kind of town where everyone knew one another and their business; it thrummed with a neighborly charm that was both frustrating and endearing. Ghost Poppa sat in the passenger seat, a wisp of his former self, his gaze intent on the road ahead.
I reached underneath my seat and grabbed the old beacon siren. I glanced over at Poppa, who gave me a slight nod before I licked the suction cup and slapped it on top of the roof. Then I pushed the gas pedal with my foot and slid my finger down the beacon to turn on the old siren.
“Kenni,” Poppa said, his voice echoing with an ethereal quality. “Remember when we used to drive down this road when you were little? And all those times I told you about the deeds of little boys…”
“Little boys who would do anything to protect their family's legacy, even if it was tainted?” I finished for him, tightening my grip on the steering wheel. His remark made me think about Vernon, about the truth that was coming to light.
Poppa nodded solemnly. “Yes, and how true it is here in the South. More so than anywhere else, I reckon.”
As we moved toward North Main Street, the rhythm of Cottonwood thrummed around us. Storefronts, painted in a rainbow of colors, lined the bustling street. The proprietors of Ruby’s Antiques, Ben’s Diner, White’s Jewelry, Cowboy’s Catfish, and others were out, waving as I drove by. A gaggle of children ran alongside the road, their high-pitched laughter mingling with the hum of the town. I was proud to be sheriff, and soon I’d have the killer I sought cuffed in the backseat.
The Wagoneer, with its distinctive old beacon siren on the roof, commanded respect, and cars moved to the side as we headed straight for the bank. It was from there that I knew Vernon Bishop would be emerging, his morning meeting ending and a big family vacation waiting.
Poppa's words played in my mind, drawing me back to our conversation about Vernon and Cybil Childress. The images from the past kept burning at the edges of my thoughts. I flashed back to the note from Dilbert that said, "Beware the tracks of fate, for they hold the secrets of the fallen. Seek the signs where iron meets the earth, and the truth shall be revealed but not by you”—the time I served Dr. Camille Shively a warrant and saw Vernon in her office—and the maps that led me to the drywall plant where Dilbert had buried photos as he blackmailed and bribed Vernon.
As we pulled up in front of the bank, I spotted Vernon walking to his car.
“Poppa,” I whispered, as if he could physically hear me, “I think Dilbert had something on Vernon. Something that forced Vernon to give him that loan.”
“Little boys and their secrets, huh?” Poppa chuckled, a deep ghostly sound that was more comforting than it should have been.
With my heart pounding, I pulled the walkie-talkie off my shoulder and called for backup. “Betty, I need you to get Scott Lee over to the bank, ASAP.”
“Is there a robbery?” she replied when she clicked back.
“No. Vernon Baxter killed Dilbert Thistle.”
The only confirmation my words got was a crackle, and again, I tightened my grip on the steering wheel, my eyes locked on Vernon. I drove my Jeep around the bank's parking lot, cutting off Vernon’s escape.
As I skidded to a stop, the tires squealing against the hot tarmac, I threw the gear into park. The dust stirred up by our abrupt halt hung in the air around us like a suspenseful fog, a contrast to the cheeriness of the sunny day.
Vernon looked up, startled, his face pale as he recognized me. Just then, I knew we were on the precipice of revealing a secret that had long been buried in the heart of Cottonwood.
"Vernon Bishop," I murmured, taking a deep breath, "it's time to pay for what you've done."
A flicker of fear danced across Vernon's face as he stared at the beacon atop my old Wagoneer. The wailing siren blared through the sunbaked streets of Cottonwood, casting a heavy silence over the usually bustling town. Store owners paused, peeking out from their businesses, their faces twisted with a mix of curiosity and concern.
"Stay in the car, Vernon," I ordered as I stepped out of the Jeep, my voice loud and clear, slicing through the silence that had descended. I squinted under the blinding sun, my sheriff badge glinting and my heart pounding against my rib cage. Ghost Poppa’s form remained seated in the car, his gaze riveted to Vernon.
"Kenni, take care," Poppa said, his concern clear despite his spectral condition.
But I didn’t have time to respond.
Ignoring the nerves prickling at the base of my spine, I walked toward Vernon, pulling the brim of my hat down to shield my eyes. His face had turned an odd shade of white, contrasting with the warm hues of the rustic town that served as our backdrop.
Within moments, I heard the familiar growl of Deputy Scott Lee's cruiser. It slid to a halt next to my Jeep, kicking up a swirl of dust that danced under the bright sunrays, much like the local kids at the annual county fair.
He joined me, his boots crunching on the gravel, echoing the tension in the air.
“What’s the situation, Sheriff?” he asked, his deep voice bouncing around the now-silent street.
I glanced at Vernon, his eyes darting between Scott and me then back to the Jeep. The afternoon sun turned his car's windows into mirrors, reflecting the image of the silent, watchful town.
"We're about to find out," I replied. I approached Vernon's Jeep, my shadow stretching over him and forming a silhouette against the brightness of the day.
My walkie-talkie crackled to life, and Betty's voice broke the intense silence. "Scott, Sheriff, be advised that additional backup is en route."
As the reality of the situation closed in on Vernon, I noticed him subtly reaching for something beneath his seat. My heart pounded in my ears, the dull throb matching Cottonwood’s heartbeat. The town seemed to hold its breath as the story was about to take a crucial turn.
“Vernon,” I warned, my hand inching toward the holster at my hip, “don’t do anything you’d regret.”
Poppa’s spectral form appeared beside me, his transparent hand reaching out in a protective gesture. “Kenni, remember, little boys in the South will do anything to protect their legacy.”
Vernon's gaze flickered to where Poppa stood, his eyes filled with a strange confusion. He couldn’t see Poppa, of course, but it was as if he sensed the spectral presence. The words hung heavy between us, a bridge connecting the past with the unraveling present.
And just like that, the sunny day in Cottonwood seemed clouded by secrets threatening to explode under the summer sun. The charming streets of our town were poised on the brink of a revelation that could change everything. As the silence of the standoff stretched between us, the town continued to hold its breath, waiting for the secrets to be unearthed.
I watched as Vernon slowly withdrew his hand from beneath his seat. He was holding not a weapon but a weathered photograph. It was an image of his wife, Lynn, her sun-kissed hair cascading down her shoulders, and his three children, their eyes full of youthful innocence. A perfect portrait of a family unaware of the turmoil brewing beneath the surface.
As he looked at the picture, his gaze held a softness, contrasting with the harsh truth he was about to unveil. “Dilbert... he figured it out,” he said in a trembling voice , breaking the eerie silence that hung in the air.
I felt a tug at my heart, but I had to maintain my professionalism.
“Figured what out, Vernon?” I asked, my voice steady despite the emotions swirling within me.
“The woman in the photo, the one you found... It was my mother, Cybil Childress.” His voice barely rose above a whisper, yet it echoed loudly in the stillness, sending shock waves through my system. But I didn’t let my surprise show.
“And then?” I pushed, my tone clinical, matching Scott's stoic demeanor as he stood beside me.
“When I told Dilbert he didn’t qualify for a loan, he threatened me... with those photographs.” His grip on the family picture tightened. “He wouldn’t give them back, even after I pulled some strings, even after I gave him the down payment. He wouldn’t stop.”
I took a step closer, and the gravel crunched under my boots. “And then you took matters into your own hands?”
Vernon nodded, a single tear slipping down his cheek. “I waited by the fairgrounds... offered him a ride home. That’s when I injected him with the poison I’d stolen from Camille’s office.” The confession hung heavy in the air.
“And the tracks?” Scott’s voice echoed the question in my mind. “The inhaler we found at the tracks was yours, too, right?”
The coughing fit Vernon had whem he told me he’d swallowed wrong was a lie. He’d needed his inhaler. My heart sank for not only Lynn but the three girls.
Vernon nodded and then frowned.
“I left him there... hoping a train would come by. Make it look like he stumbled...” Vernon trailed off. The echo of his confession continued to hang in the atmosphere, seeping into the very fabric of our sunny small town. “I had to take a few puffs of my inhaler because he was so heavy it knocked the wind out of me. I didn’t realize I’d dropped it until it was too late.”
I took a deep breath, wrestling with the wave of emotions threatening to break my professional demeanor. This was a man I'd known, a man whose children I watched grow up. A man who let fear and the weight of a hidden past drive him to the unthinkable.
The moment was profound, steeped in raw emotion and marred by a tragedy that reached far beyond Dilbert’s demise. Cottonwood would never be the same. Our bright, charming town had been doused with a dark reality, a secret that had remained buried for far too long.
But this profession, had no room for personal feelings. And as the sheriff, I had a duty to perform. Looking into the teary eyes of a shattered man, I reached for my handcuffs. It was time to uphold the law, no matter how painful the truth.
"Vernon Bishop, you're under arrest for the murder of Dilbert Thistle,” I declared, my voice resolute, echoing through the silent street of our once-blissful town.
Scott ran past me and, quicker than a whip, got Vernon’s hands behind his back and in cuffs before I could sputter off the rest of his rights.
“And there you have it, folks,” I heard Taven say from the sidewalk. “Taven Tidwell and Deputy Scott Lee will bring this town to justice.”
“Scott Lee?” I gasped and, without thinking, looked at Taven.
“Oh, he hasn’t told you yet?” Taven smiled and went back to looking into the camera on his phone. “You heard it here first, folks. Scott Lee is going to run as my deputy. He, too, is tired of what’s going on in the Cottonwood sheriff’s office. It’s time for a change. A Tidwell change.”
I felt the words crash into me like a wave. Scott Lee? My deputy, my confidant, the only other pair of hands I had in maintaining law and order in this quaint town, was about to stand against me?
Taven's taunting voice trailed off in my mind, but his words had left a searing imprint. I was frozen, staring at Taven's smug face then at Scott. His gaze was at the ground, his silence confirming the validity of Taven's claim.
In an instant, it was as if Cottonwood, with its sunlit streets and bustling downtown, had shrunk. The warmth of the sun seemed colder, the light harsher. But I had to maintain my composure. No matter how I felt inside, I was still Sheriff Kenni Lowry, and I had a duty to perform.
Gritting my teeth, I straightened up, pushing the whirlwind of emotions into the furthest corner of my mind. "Scott, please take Vernon to the station. I'll meet you there."
Scott merely nodded, his eyes never meeting mine, as he led Vernon away.
I watched them walk away, Scott's betrayal seeping into me, stinging more than Vernon's confession. But more was at stake here, and I couldn't afford to let personal emotions get in the way of justice.
I took a deep breath, smoothing down the imaginary wrinkles on my uniform. Then I turned and proceeded back to the jeep. I paused before I climbed in, glancing back at the town I had sworn to protect. It wasn't just about Vernon or Scott or even Taven. It was about Cottonwood and the people who called it home.
As the engine roared to life, I took one last look at the lively town, a kaleidoscope of colors under the sun. But now, shadows of doubt were creeping into its corners. The coming days would be a test for all of us. And I, Kenni Lowry, was at the helm of it.
Gripping the steering wheel tighter, I pulled out of the parking lot, leaving behind a storm of uncertainty. There was much to do, much to uncover, and the future of Cottonwood hung in the balance. As the dust rose in my wake, I couldn't shake off a gnawing feeling: the storm was just beginning. And as I drove off into the distance, the siren's wail rang through the air, a grim herald of the tumult that lay ahead.
I did know one thing. I still had Poppa and Finn by my side.
“I guess you’ve got to get hitched before you get rid of me.” Poppa’s voice was just a whisper, but the comfort in it lay over me like a warm protective blanket that I knew I wouldn’t take for granted while I had it.
For the next few months, everything in my world would be easy. With Poppa beside me, I was ready to take on Taven Tidwell, and I wouldn’t go down without a fight.
Also By Tonya Kappes
A Camper and Criminals Cozy Mystery
BEACHES, BUNGALOWS, & BURGLARIES
DESERTS, DRIVERS, & DERELICTS
FORESTS, FISHING, & FORGERY
CHRISTMAS, CRIMINALS, & CAMPERS
MOTORHOMES, MAPS, & MURDER
CANYONS, CARAVANS, & CADAVERS
HITCHES, HIDEOUTS, & HOMICIDE
ASSAILANTS, ASPHALT, & ALIBIS
VALLEYS, VEHICLES & VICTIMS
SUNSETS, SABBATICAL, & SCANDAL
TENTS, TRAILS, & TURMOIL
KICKBACKS, KAYAKS, & KIDNAPPING
GEAR, GRILLS, & GUNS
EGGNOG, EXTORTION, & EVERGREENS
