Death of a Wolfman (A Lily Gayle Lambert Mystery Book 1) (17 page)

“When did she get so touchy?” Miss Edna wondered.

Ignoring the question seemed like the better choice. Knowing we weren’t going to solve anything today, I put the dress back on the mannequin so it wouldn't wrinkle up before I could get over here later and pack it up in the special tissue paper I kept just for that purpose. Standing back, I checked it over with a critical eye. No wrinkles. Hanging nicely. And the peacock blue with iridescent beading on the bodice and floor-length sleeves looked gorgeous. Project completed. Which reminded me.

“I want to grab my notes on the Mitchell genealogy project before we leave. I need to go to the library to work on that some more later today. Ben seems to be in the mood to allow me to go somewhere besides the shop and Dixie’s house so I’m going to take full advantage and give us both some breathing room.”

Dixie laughed as she re-entered the room. “You know I love you like a sister, but I didn’t take you in to raise. All this togetherness has been a little rough.” I could still see hurt in her eyes. Once we got rid of Miss Edna I’d give her a good talking to about letting the old woman get under her skin. Everyone knew there was no filter on what came out of her mouth.

“Ben is the patriarch of your family. I’m glad to see you’re paying attention and doing what he says.”

Yep. No filter. “Good grief, Miss Edna. Ben isn’t in charge of me. I do what he tells me to because he’s the law and he would sure as shootin’ put my butt in a jail cell if I didn’t.”

“Well, I thought your mama raised you better than that. You should have respect for the eldest male in your family line.”

I burst out laughing, stopping only when I saw the outrage on the older woman’s face. “I’m sorry. It’s just that Ben and I have been arguing our whole lives. I don’t see any of that changing just because he’s the oldest living male these days. That’s too old-fashioned.”

Miss Edna sniffed. “Not everyone thinks that way.”

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

On the drive back to Dixie’s shop I called Ben. After fifteen minutes of listening to his orders and making promises, I get his OK to go to the library. Not that I really needed it. Well, I did in this instance because of the case. But not normally. Damn. Miss Edna had me all discombobulated with her talk about patriarchs.

As we pulled to a stop in front of Miss Edna’s house, I breathed a quiet sigh of relief. She’d been blessedly silent about what she had to have overhead of my conversation but couldn’t resist one last pronouncement as we walked her to her front door. “I think we made some interesting progress with our discussion this afternoon. I’m going to spend the rest of the day considering everything and will get back with y’all tomorrow morning with my thoughts.”

Dixie and I looked at each other. I shook my head slightly to let her know I wasn’t touching that one. “You do that, Miss Edna,” Dixie said, opening the door for the older woman to go on in.

“I’m assuming from what I could hear on this end that you got Ben's OK to go to the library," Dixie said as we walked back to the car.

“Yes. I think he might be relaxing just a little bit. Nothing else has happened. Maybe I’m not a target anymore. Maybe I never was in the first place. Ben does have a tendency to overreact to these things.”

“Maybe because you keep getting yourself into these things. And remember, the Taylor boys did threaten to get you after you broke into their trailer.”

I rolled my eyes. “Seriously, do you think they’re dumb enough to do something to the sheriff's cousin after making a threat with a witness present?”

Dixie paused while unlocking the door to the shop. “Didn’t we just get through having a conversation with Miss Edna about how that family has always been kinda on the dumb side?” She pushed open the door, making the bells tinkle. “No offense to Samantha; I know she’s trying to get out and do something with herself.”

I shrugged. “No offense to me. They’re not my kin. And I haven’t seen hide nor hair of either of the boys since we were out at the trailer so I’m not worried about them.”

Slinging my satchel of genealogy notes over my shoulder, I said, “See you at supper,” and headed toward the library.

As soon as I got there, I went toward the research section, mentally reviewing what I remembered from my last visit.

As I went by the big antique librarian’s desk, Miss Jamerson warned, “Don’t you dare leave microfilm out again, Lily Gayle Lambert. I put it up properly last time. But if you do it again, I’ll ban you from coming in here for a year.”

I winced. Leaving out microfilm ranked high on the list of cardinal offenses. Almost but not quite as bad as filing it out of order. “Yes’m. I promise.” I kept walking but felt her eyes on me all the way to the microfilm cabinet.

Pulling out the box of film I’d looked at previously, I reviewed my notes to make sure I hadn’t missed anything. Jumping forward several censuses, I never found that missing child. Or any record of his death.

In the next generation I found two more children who disappeared. Then none disappeared. Must have been like I thought before. Children died easily back before medical care progressed a lot. I also discovered that the rumor of a midwife in every generation was truth. Interesting.

Scrambling through the contents of my satchel to find a pen, my fingers closed over an object I couldn’t mentally place in the bag. Pulling it out for inspection revealed the strange dragon necklace LizBeth had sent to me in the envelope with the check for my genealogical services. I still had no idea why.

Shrugging aside the mystery, I slipped the necklace back in my satchel for safekeeping. It was a nice keepsake.

Done with the microfilm, I carefully removed it from the machine, placed it back into the box and filed the box away in the cabinet with the others. Couldn’t have Miss Jamerson banning me from the library for any extended period of time.

Moving over to the public computers, I logged into my Ancestry.com account to check for any responses to my open inquiries on the Mitchell family. A single response waited for my attention. It came from genman99. I couldn’t remember coming across him on any past research projects, so I didn’t know what to expect. Occasionally questionable individuals would respond to open queries like the one I’d made. I preferred to deal with people I already knew.

Hi, Ms. Lambert. I’m responding to your inquiry for information about descendants of Aidan Mitchell. I have some information I know you will be very interested in. It’s about the Mitchells of Mercy, Mississippi. Photographic evidence. But I don’t like to talk about it going through this site. Please send me an email address that goes directly to you. It will be worth your time. This is not a scam and I will not ask you for money. genman99

Well, now. This guy really had my curiosity stirred up. Trust him or not? I tended to be suspicious of people asking for a direct email address. But because I had one I’d created just for this kind of possible trickery, I sent a response using it. Nothing ventured, nothing gained.

***

Stunned, I enlarged the picture on my screen so I could see the necklace better. The original photo had been grainy and enlarging it on the screen made it even more so, but there was no mistaking it was the same necklace LizBeth had given to me.

But the face of the woman wearing it, and the description below the photo, gave me an even bigger shock.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

I knocked hard on the front door to Mitchell Manor, then waited with foot tapping and questions rolling around in my head like balls on a pool table after the break. That necklace on the bearded woman in the picture couldn’t be a coincidence.

I was considering slipping around back to knock on other doors when the front one creaked open. Alexander Mitchell looked like a different man, his face haggard and unshaven. He’d lost enough weight that his clothes looked big on him. Losing his sister like that must be weighing on his mind. And his daddy was sick too.

“What do you want now?”

“Mr. Mitchell, I'm real sorry to disturb you. I can see how you aren’t feelin' well. But I’ve discovered some information about your family I think you should know. I believe the wolf man who was killed might be connected to your family. Maybe he found that out and was trying to get to your house.”

The stunned expression on his face gave me hope that he’d talk to me.

“You should come in.”

After we’d settled in a parlor off the entrance hall, he asked, “What is the information?”

I explained about the inquiry I’d made on the Ancestry.com forum and that someone had responded with a story about a branch of the Mitchell family that carried the gene for hypertrichosis. And about the clincher for me: the photo of the bearded lady in the circus wearing the same necklace as the one LizBeth had given to me. His expression remained neutral as I explained how I’d come to the conclusion that the wolf man must be related to the Mitchells here in Mercy.

Once I wound down, he looked…kinda regretful. As I was wondering why, he pulled a golf club out from behind his chair. When he swung it toward my head I realized just how big a mistake I’d made coming here alone with my story.

***

I woke up on a cold floor with a raging headache and no idea where I was. Scrambling to my feet, I held my hands out in front of me and staggered blindly through space. In a few feet, my hands met cold stone.

Memory rushed back. Mitchell Manor. The story about the branch of the family with the gene for wolf man syndrome. Alexander'd known about it all along. And LizBeth too. So why had she asked me to research the family? She must've guessed that I'd find out. She'd even talked about how her friends had commented on my knack for uncovering obscure information.

Shaking away the thoughts, I explored my surroundings. My hands found a flat surface. Some kind of table. Patting across it, I found an oblong cylinder with a button on the side. Flashlight. With a silent prayer I pushed the button. Light bloomed, illuminating a small square room holding a twin size bed and a dresser in addition to the table in front of me. A quick glance through the drawers of the dresser drawers revealed a small collection of mens shirts and jeans. Kind of like a jail cell situation. I didn't much like the scared feelin' tap dancin' it's way up my spine. Across the room a doorway beckoned.

The next room held a couch and a wall of books. I took one down. On the fly leaf it had an inscription.

To my brother Thomas, May these words give you a space of freedom from this life. LizBeth

The book dropped from my nerveless fingers. The wolf man had been their brother. Obviously held captive here his whole life long. And how many before him? I remembered the children disappearing from the census records. Had generations of wolf men, and maybe wolf women, been held here? A secret kept from the world?

I had to figure out how Thomas had escaped. Because, sure as God made little green apples, Alexander would be comin' back for me.

An hour or so later, sweaty and panicked from not finding a way out, steps echoes in the corridor outside the securely barred door to my prison. I stood tall in the middle of the cold room and mentally girded myself for a fight to the death. No way would I go down easy.

The door swung open. Alexander stood in the dark hallway outside, the golf club cocked jauntily over his shoulder. Without a word, he motioned me to precede him along the narrow hallway.

OK, girl. Be smart. Go along till you see a way to break free.

Too bad my galloping heart didn't seem to agree.

I eased past him, a wary eye on the club; prepared to run like hell if it came away from his shoulder. I strode along the corridor, head up, shoulder back…and ears practically flapping as I strained to hear any sounds behind me. Up some stairs I found myself in the room where he'd first cold-cocked me with the golf club.

Using speed and grace born of desperation, I leaped sideways and dashed toward the door to the entryway. My feet slid out from under me on the highly polished wood floor and I crashed hip first into the door. A quick glance behind showed me Alexander was coming fast, golf club raised high. I couldn't get the door open so I scrambled behind the couch.

He was shouting as he came after me. “I have sacrificed my whole life. Now that everything is almost mine, I won’t tolerate you ruining it for me by telling everyone.”