What the Cat Dragged In Read online

  Azalea turned from the stove to stare at me. “I thought Mr. Martin Hale had bought all that from your granddaddy years ago.”

  I shrugged. “That’s what I thought, too, but Sean says otherwise. Apparently, my grandfather only leased the land to Mr. Hale for his lifetime, and on his death, the property reverted to my grandfather’s heir. And that turns out to be me.”

  “Mr. Hale is dead?” Azalea frowned.

  “Died in California a couple of months ago, Sean said. His family didn’t let anyone here know until recently.” My phone rang, and I pulled it from my pocket. Sean was calling.

  “Excuse me. I need to take this.” I got up from the table and headed out into the hall. Diesel and Ramses came running after me.

  “What’s the latest?” I asked after greeting my son.

  “The root cellar is intact,” Sean replied. “A fair amount of home-canned goods on the shelves. No sign of any digging, however. At least, not yet.”

  “Thank the Lord for that,” I said with profound relief. “Anything else?”

  “Not yet. I’m in the car on the way back to the office. Do you need anything right now?” Sean’s concern was evident. “Don’t worry too much about this, Dad. I’d be willing to bet that skeleton is really old, an archaeological specimen.”

  “Maybe so,” I said, “but I find that upsetting. To think of someone disturbing a burial really bothers me.”

  “I see your point,” Sean replied. “But let’s wait until we know more, okay? No use worrying about things you can’t control. Remember how you used to tell me that?”

  I had to chuckle. “Yes, Dad, I do.”

  Sean snorted with laughter. “Later, dude.” The call ended.

  I knew Sean was right. Spending time agonizing over the origin and identity of the skeleton wouldn’t be productive. I put my phone away and wandered back into the kitchen. Diesel and Ramses stayed hot on my trail. I noticed that Diesel made sure to put himself between Ramses and me.

  Azalea was chopping iceberg lettuce by the sink. She turned as we entered. Her expression enigmatic, she asked, “What’s going on? I can always tell when something’s up.”

  I resumed my place at the table but twisted my chair around so I could face her. I gave her a brief description of the morning’s activities at my grandfather’s house. She appeared to be listening intently but remained focused on assembling the salad.

  When I’d finished my story, Azalea didn’t respond right away. She picked up a dishrag and wiped her hands before she turned to look at me. “I think I know who those bones used to be.”

  FOUR

  Azalea’s bald pronouncement startled me so much I nearly dropped my glass. I set it down. “How on earth would you know that?”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Mr. Hale’s wife was supposed to’ve ran off with another man about forty years ago. I never did think she was the kind of woman to do that. You mark my words, he got drunk one day and killed her and buried her somewhere on that farm.”

  “That’s horrible,” I said. “Was Mr. Hale an alcoholic?”

  “He was bad to drink,” Azalea replied. “My daddy worked for him for a while back when Kanesha was a baby. If it wasn’t for old Mr. Hale’s son, that farm would have sat there and gone to seed.” She paused for a deep breath. “Then about twenty-five years ago, I reckon it was, Mr. Hale’s son took him to a revival, and the preacher put the fear of the Lord into him. He gave up drinking right then and there. Took up working on the farm again and going to church.”

  “That’s an amazing story,” I said, still trying to take in the implications. If Azalea was correct about Mrs. Hale, this could be the end of the matter. Tragic, but with Mr. Hale dead, and presumably his son as well, there was nothing to do except give Mrs. Hale a proper burial.

  “I suppose Mr. Hale’s son is dead, too?” I asked.

  “Killed in an accident on the farm nigh on twenty years ago,” Azalea said. “His wife remarried and moved to California with her children. Left old Mr. Hale on his own. Word was she couldn’t stand the old man.”

  “Did he start drinking again when his son was killed and his family left?”

  Azalea shrugged. “Not that I ever heard.” She turned back to her salad. “Mark my words, that’s Mrs. Hale you found.”

  But who put her bones in the attic? And why?

  I left those questions unspoken. Azalea couldn’t answer them any more than I could. I decided to withdraw to the den. I filled my glass again, this time with chilled sweet tea, and called for the cats to come with me. Diesel stretched out beside my recliner, and Ramses hopped up on the footrest. He meowed in triumph as he looked down at Diesel, who was too large and heavy to lie on the footrest. Diesel ignored his little brother.

  Kanesha needed to know about this possible lead to the skeleton’s identity. I decided the easiest way to do it was to text her. All I said was that her mother had an idea about the identity of the remains and to call her as soon as she could. I laid the phone aside, satisfied that I had done what I should without being nosy and interfering. Kanesha might take it that way, but that was up to her.

  I wondered whether I should share this news with Sean right away. No need to disturb him at the office, I decided after brief consideration. He had a busy schedule every day, and this news could wait.

  The doorbell rang, and I gently nudged Ramses down from the footrest. Diesel sprang up and trotted out of the den, Ramses right behind him. I moved more slowly, and by the time I’d reached the hall, Azalea already stood at the door greeting my daughter, Laura, and my grandson, Charlie.

  Upon seeing me, Charlie started chattering and trying to free himself from his mother’s arms. Laura laughed and put the boy down. He tottered toward me still talking a mile a minute. The only word I understood was Papa, his name for me. I stepped forward and swung him up over my head. He giggled and clapped his hands. Then I brought him close to my chest and hugged him. He wrapped his arms around my neck and squeezed. He began talking again. His speech was becoming clearer now that he was thirteen months old, but the noises he emitted didn’t sound much like words anyone but he knew.

  “This is a pleasant surprise,” I said as I walked forward to greet my daughter. I bent to kiss her cheek, and Charlie had to kiss her as well.

  Laura laughed. “We were out and about, so I thought we’d drop by. After all, it’s been nearly twenty-four hours since you and Azalea have seen us.”

  Diesel had been meowing the entire time. He considered Charlie his special charge, and whenever the baby was nearby, Diesel insisted on being close to him. I set Charlie down and he wrapped his arms around Diesel, chattering away. Diesel warbled, and Charlie answered. Ramses sat and watched. He didn’t appear to know what to make of this small human with the grabby hands.

  I always kept an eye on Charlie and Diesel these days, because I knew the baby could easily hurt the cat without knowing what he was doing. So far, however, I had never seen him do it. Charlie seemed to have an instinct about how to treat Diesel, and Diesel certainly knew how to keep an eye on the baby.

  “Y’all come on into the kitchen.” Azalea led the way. “I know that baby is probably thirsty, and I’ve got some nice cold apple juice for him.”

  “Thank you, Azalea,” Laura said. “That’s perfect. I’ll have some, too, if there’s enough.” She took Charlie’s hand to lead him in the right direction. Diesel accompanied them, and Ramses trailed along.

  “Were you running errands this morning?” I asked as we seated ourselves at the table.

  “Doctor visit.” Laura gave a mischievous smile.

  “Was it already time for another checkup?” I glanced at my grandson. “He just saw the doctor a couple of weeks ago. Is there anything wrong?”

  “No, Charlie’s fine, Dad.” Laura regarded me. “It was my turn to see my doctor.”

  “I hope nothing’s wrong,”
I said. “Are you sick? You don’t look it.” In fact, she appeared to me to be glowing with health.

  Azalea gave Laura a knowing look as she placed a glass of apple juice in front of her along with Charlie’s sippy cup. The baby climbed into Laura’s lap and she settled him with his cup.

  “Miss Laura’s going to have another baby.” Azalea regarded me, one eyebrow raised.

  Laura laughed at my expression. “She’s right, Dad. I’ve suspected it, but the obstetrician confirmed it. You’re going to have another grandchild in about seven months.”

  I couldn’t take in the news for a moment. I stared at Azalea. “She told you?”

  Azalea snorted. “Didn’t have to. I could see it by looking at her.” Obviously, this was one of those mysterious things that only women knew. I didn’t have a clue that my daughter was pregnant until she told me.

  I turned back to my daughter. “Does Frank know?”

  Laura smiled. “Of course. He was with me at the doctor’s office, but he had to get back to campus once we were done.”

  Her husband, Frank Salisbury, was head of the theater department at Athena College, and Laura was an assistant professor there.

  I got up from my chair to give my daughter a hug. “This is wonderful news. Are y’all ready for another baby?”

  “Ready as we’ll ever be,” Laura said happily. “We wanted at least one sibling for Charlie, maybe a little sister to drive him crazy like I did Sean.”

  “A sweet little girl who looks just like her mama.” Azalea beamed with joy as she came to hug Laura.

  “Thank you,” Laura said.

  Charlie began to bounce in his mother’s lap. He had evidently finished his apple juice and now wanted down. Laura eased him off her lap, and he immediately sat down to rub heads with Diesel. Ramses crawled into his lap.

  Knowing that child and cats would be happily entertained for a few minutes, I told Laura about the morning’s activities. Her eyes widened when I mentioned the bones in the attic. She gave a dramatic shiver and said, “How creepy.” Then she motioned for me to continue.

  Charlie, Diesel, and Ramses were crawling around on the floor, all three making sounds of contentment and joy. I raised my voice as I went on to finish the story. I didn’t include Azalea’s potential identification of the body. There was no point in spreading that information for the moment.

  “I hope they can find out who it is,” Laura said. “The whole thing really is macabre. I think I’d have run screaming down the stairs if a skull had popped out at me like that.” She glanced over at Diesel. “He had no idea what it was, of course.”

  “A potential toy,” I said as the image returned, unbidden, to my mind. I suppressed a shiver.

  “Nancy Drew never found anything like that,” Laura said. “Even in the old attic book.”

  “No, she didn’t,” I said, “although at the age I first read the books, I would have been thrilled no end.”

  Laura laughed at that. “Me too, probably.” She sobered. “Are you going to keep the house? I’d love to see it at some point.”

  “I honestly haven’t thought much about it yet,” I said. “Since I’ve only known about it a few hours now.” I paused for a moment. “There’s a part of me that is happy that it’s back in the family because of the history of it. My grandparents lived there, and my father grew up there. But I don’t honestly see myself living there. I’m perfectly comfortable here.”

  “What about Helen Louise?” Laura asked. “What are the two of you going to do after you’re married? Live here? Or in her house?”

  “We still haven’t decided,” I said, hoping to avoid further discussion of this issue. The truth was, Helen Louise and I had argued about this several times since I had asked her to marry me a few months ago. Neither one of us wanted to move to the other’s house, and that presented a big problem. She grew up in her house, as had her father before her. I understood her attachment to the place, and I knew she understood my attachment to my house, left to me by my aunt Dottie.

  Laura must have sensed I didn’t want to discuss it. She didn’t question me further. “I’m sure you’ll have plenty of time to decide what to do with the house,” she said. “This investigation could take months unless there are some lucky breaks.”

  I glanced at Azalea and frowned. I didn’t want her to start talking about Mr. Hale and his possibly murdered wife, at least not until she had talked to Kanesha about it. Azalea stared back at me as if to say, You think I don’t have any sense?

  I wondered whether Kanesha had called her mother yet. In the excitement of Laura’s arrival with Charlie, there had been no time to find out.

  “I think you’re probably right,” I said in response to Laura’s statement, though privately I hoped the situation would be resolved more quickly. I hoped that calling in Dewey Seton, the forensic anthropologist, would move things along at a more rapid pace.

  Conversation turned to more domestic matters, and we three adults chatted for about a quarter hour while Charlie continued to play with the cats. Finally, he wore himself out and started to become fretful. Laura gathered him up, and I walked them to the car, leaving Diesel and Ramses to stretch out under the table for a nap. Charlie had exhausted them and himself.

  Back in the kitchen I found that Azalea had set the table for lunch. I checked my watch and was surprised to see that it was nearly twelve-thirty. I hadn’t realized it was so late, but the morning had been full of incidents.

  I gazed with happiness at the spread of food before me. Sliced Virginia ham, sweet-potato fluff, purple hull peas, salad, and hot, fresh cornbread. I helped myself and soon had a plate full of deliciousness. Azalea had set a fresh glass of sweet tea at my place, and I thanked her, as I always did, for the food she provided.

  She nodded and left the kitchen. I never could get her to eat with me, and I had given up trying a few years ago. She had promised my aunt Dottie that she would look after the house as she had done for years, and make sure I was looked after, too. Thanks to a legacy from my aunt, Azalea really didn’t need to work, but she wasn’t the type to retire. As usual, she had cooked enough for four or five, but the food wouldn’t go to waste. The leftovers would provide either dinner tonight or lunch tomorrow for me and my boarders, Stewart Delacorte and Haskell, his partner.

  I heard the front door open and close, and moments later, Stewart appeared in the doorway, almost as if I had conjured him. He cast a hungry look at the table and smiled.

  “Hey, Charlie. I’m starving. Looks like you’ve just started.” He went to the cabinet for a plate, and then extracted silverware from the drawer. He set these at his place and poured himself a glass of sweet tea. After filling his plate with food, he settled in to eat. Diesel and Ramses left me and moved to sit on either side of Stewart’s chair. He had frequently been known to share bits of his meal with them, and they weren’t about to miss any opportunities.

  “What have you been up to this morning?” Stewart asked after he had eaten several mouthfuls of food.

  I gave him a shortened version of the story. When I reached the point of the discovery of the skull, he laughed. “Good heavens, Charlie, can’t you go anywhere without finding a dead body? Well, in this case, skeletal remains.” He took a bite of ham as he regarded me, eyes twinkling with mischief.

  “I’m beginning to think I can’t,” I told him with a gloom not totally feigned. I finished the story without interruption.

  At the conclusion Stewart put down his fork and reached for his glass. After a healthy swig of the tea, he said, “Dewey Seton is exactly the person to sort this out.”

  “I hope he can,” I said. “Do you know him? I’ve read about him in campus publications, but I haven’t met him.”

  Stewart nodded. “Nice guy, a bit younger than me. On the intense side, not much of a sense of humor, but you know these bone guys. They relate better to dead peop
le than to live ones, at least in my experience.” He chuckled.

  Not having personally known any bone guys, as Stewart labeled them, I couldn’t argue.

  “He also has a cadaver dog,” Stewart said. “Did you know that?”

  I shook my head. I’d heard of cadaver dogs, but I didn’t realize there were any in our area. I knew there was a group in Memphis who used them for search and rescue, but that was the closest area I knew about.

  “They’re amazing animals.” Stewart gazed blandly at me as his hand slipped under the table, no doubt to dispense bites of ham to two starving felines. I pretended not to notice, but if either cat got sick, I decided I would insist that Stewart clean it up.

  “Then the sooner Kanesha gets Dr. Seton and his dog on the case, the better,” I said. “I want to know where those bones were before someone put them in the attic.”

  “I’m sure you do,” Stewart said. “It’s a bit spooky, isn’t it? I wonder how long they were in the attic. I wonder if old man Hale put them there.”

  “Who knows?” I said. “We may never know the answer to that, but if we can find out who those bones were once upon a time, maybe we’ll be able to find out how they got into the attic.”

  “For your sake I hope this isn’t drawn out over months,” Stewart said. “Or longer.”

  “Me too,” I replied. “Azalea has a theory about those bones.” I hadn’t wanted Azalea to mention it in front of my daughter because I didn’t want Laura upset by the story, not in her condition. I knew it wouldn’t faze Stewart in the least.

  “Really?” Stewart regarded me with an interrogative expression. “Do tell.”

  “She told me that Mr. Hale at one time was a mean drunk, and that he probably killed his wife. Then he put it about that she ran off with another man.”

  Stewart snorted. “Try running that by Haskell, why don’t you?”

  “What does Haskell have to do with it?” I asked, puzzled.