Murder Carries a Torch (5 page)

No one answered.

I knocked again, even calling, “Virginia?”

Still no answer. I looked in the window of what was the living room. It was furnished with a sofa and a giant TV, one of those that’s so big the picture is blurry.

I looked back at the car and shrugged at Luke and Mary Alice. Then I moved over and looked into the bedroom. It was neat, the bed made up with a pink chenille bedspread.

I tapped on the window. Nothing.

“They’re not here,” I said to Luke and Mary Alice as I got back in the car. “I swear I think I saw a snowflake, though.”

“But his truck’s here. Maybe they’re over there.” Luke pointed toward the church.

“Well, you go look.” I pulled my coat collar up. If that really had been a snowflake, we wouldn’t be able to stay up on Chandler Mountain long. In Warsaw it had been business as usual over Christmas despite a foot of snow on the ground and more falling all the time. In Alabama, a dusting of snow totally incapacitates us. And that’s on the flat areas.

“He could have an office over there,” Sister said.

I looked at the church. Small, white paint peeling, it was probably one large room. This was a country church, built like the houses around it. There wouldn’t be room for ministers’ offices or choir lofts, just a row of wooden benches and perhaps a raised platform for the preacher.

“Okay, I’ll go see.” Luke got out of the car and marched toward the church.

“There’s nothing over there,” I said to Sister.

“Probably not. Here.” She handed me a Styrofoam cup of coffee. “This’ll warm you up.”

I took the coffee gratefully and felt the steam rise against my cold face.

“He’s going in,” Sister said. “The door was unlocked.”

There were double doors at the front of the church. As I looked up, Luke disappeared through the one on the right.

“I hope he hurries,” I said. “We need to get off this mountain.”

“We sure do. I’ve got a museum board meeting tonight.” She took her cell phone from her purse. “I’m going to check on Debbie.”

“Did you give her her present?”

“I thought I’d take it over this afternoon.”

I sipped my coffee and looked out at the gray day. A couple more snowflakes drifted by. I closed my jet-lagged eyes. Sister’s conversation with Debbie seemed far away.

“Debbie says they’re predicting snow showers,” Sister said.

I jumped. A little coffee sloshed on my corduroy pants. Damn. Not a good idea going to sleep holding hot coffee.

“We need to go. Reckon what Puke’s doing in there anyway?”

“Praying?” I was still half asleep.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Mouse. It’s too cold. Come on. Let’s go get him.”

To this day I don’t know why I got out of the car
and followed her across the churchyard, still clutching my coffee. The habit of sixty years, I suppose.

Sister opened the church door and called, “Luke?”

There was no answer, and she walked in. I was right behind her.

There were windows down both sides of the church, which, as I had surmised, was one large room. So we could see, and what we could see was that there was no Luke in the place.

“Luke?” Sister called again, walking up the aisle.

A strange sound, a moan, made us both stop.

“What the hell was that?” Sister whispered.

“How the hell do I know?” I whispered back. “And don’t talk like that in church.”

“Luke?” Sister’s voice was hesitant.

Again the moan.

“He’s sick,” I said. I brushed past Sister to the front pew.

An unconscious Luke lay there on the floor, blood pouring from a deep cut on his forehead.

I was cool. I had taught school for thirty years. I carefully placed my coffee on the bench, knelt beside Luke, and felt the pulse in his neck. I knew from my in-service training that this was what I was supposed to do. I don’t know why. He was obviously alive.

“Get me something like a towel,” I told Sister. “And some water.”

“Oh, my God, Mouse. Look behind you.”

I turned. Lying on the front pew across the aisle was a woman. Though she was on her stomach, her neck was twisted so far around that bright red hair fell across her face and brushed the floor.

“Is she dead?” Sister whispered.

Of course she was. Nobody’s head fit their neck that way.

“Of course she is.”

“Oh, God. I’m going to be sick.” Sister ran down the aisle and threw the door open.

As I said, I was cool. I don’t fall apart during emergencies. I pulled off my coat and my sweatshirt, put my coat back on, and pressed the sweatshirt against Luke’s forehead. Behind me, the dead girl’s eyes stared at the ceiling.

It was January, I thought. Bed Bath & Beyond were having a wonderful sale. Those big towels that were like sheets. Fred would like that. And one of those George Foreman grills. Maybe they were on sale, too. This afternoon when we got home, I’d go right over to the Summit and see. No problem.

I’m not sure how long I wandered the aisles of Bed Bath & Beyond before I heard the church door creak open. Probably only a few minutes.

Mary Alice came in and sat on the back bench.

“I called 911,” she said.

“Okay.”

“You doing your Martha Stewart bit?”

She knows me too well.

“Beats throwing up.” I lifted the sweatshirt and looked at Luke’s forehead. The bleeding had almost stopped, but my sweatshirt had soaked up a lot of blood.

“Luke?” I said. “Luke, answer me.”

His eyes fluttered, and he moaned. I sat back on my heels and looked at the way he was lying, crumpled on his side. I’d had to turn his head to staunch the bleeding.
Had he fallen and hit his head on the bench or had he been attacked? Maybe he had seen the woman’s body and fainted. He’d said he wasn’t feeling well.

I glanced over at the dead woman. Whoever had broken her neck had laid her out on the bench as if she were sleeping. She was wearing a long, blue-flowered challis skirt and a white blouse. Her skirt had been neatly tucked around black boots whose soles were encrusted with red clay. And she had to be young from the appearance of the coppery mass of hair cascading to the floor.

Damn. I shivered.

I was about to return to the white sales at Bed Bath & Beyond when Mary Alice announced that the 911 people would be there in a few minutes. And did I know where the nearest hospital was?

“Oneonta?” I guessed. “Gadsden?” I pressed my fingers against Luke’s pulse again. Was it my imagination or was it thready? “I hope not far. I think Luke’s going into shock. Bring me your cape. We’ve got to get him warm.”

“It’ll get blood on it.”

“Damn it, Sister!”

She came down the aisle slowly and sideways so she wouldn’t see the woman’s body.

“He doesn’t look good, does he?” she said, handing me the cape. “Luke? You okay?” She yelled the latter as if deafness were Luke’s problem.

I took the cape, spread it over Luke, and added my coat.

“He came in while the murderer was still here, didn’t he? And the murderer tried to kill him.”

“I doubt it.” I pointed toward the woman. “I think she’s been dead awhile. Look at her hand hanging over
the bench. It’s almost black. I don’t know what you call that, but it’s got a name, where the blood seeps down to the lowest part.”

Sister turned green and dashed from the church again. Served her right.

Luke opened his eyes and then closed them again. I rubbed his arms and hands. I needed something to elevate his legs. Hymnals, I thought. But there weren’t any in the church.

From a distance there was the welcome sound of a siren. Then it died out. And then I heard it again. Coming up the mountain, I realized, the hairpin curves breaking the sound.

The door opened.

“They’re coming,” Sister announced. “I’ll flag them down.”

The sound was steady now. They were crossing the Horse Pens plateau, beginning their descent toward the church. And then they were pulling into the driveway where I could hear Sister yelling, “This way!”

I held Luke’s hand and waited.

Three large men dressed in uniforms rushed through the door and then stopped so suddenly they almost fell over each other.

“Lady, you by yourself?” one of them asked.

“What?”

“The snakes up?”

“We’re not coming no farther less they are,” a second one said.

“What are you talking about? There’s a hurt man here and a dead woman.”

“No snakes?”

“Of course not. What’s the matter with you?”

“Just making sure,” the first man said. “Come on, y’all.”

I moved aside. They glanced at the dead woman and then concentrated on Luke. Blood pressure cuffs came out. Heart monitors. One of the men was talking on a cell phone, nodding, receiving information from a trauma center, I realized, where this information was being transmitted. I was impressed.

“Here.” One of the paramedics handed me my coat and Sister’s cloak. She had followed the men into the church and was sitting on a back bench. I took the cloak back to her and put my own coat on.

“Did you hear them asking about snakes?”

“No.” She shivered. “It’s snowing. I swear, Patricia Anne. I can’t figure out for the life of me how you keep getting us into these predicaments.”

“Me? Ha!” A real smart answer and the end of that conversation. We huddled on the bench in silence.

In a few minutes we heard another siren. Two deputy sheriffs came in, spoke to the paramedics, and started working the other side of the aisle where the woman’s body was.

“What a mess,” Sister grumbled.

I got up and walked outside. It was, indeed, snowing. Tiny, dry flakes were being blown by the wind. Lord, we needed to get off this mountain.

An ambulance pulled up. Two young women hopped out, nodded to me, and rushed into the church.

“Mouse?”

Sister was standing in the doorway.

“The policemen want to talk to you.”

“Why? All we did was ride up here with Luke to look for Virginia.”

“That’s what I told them.”

“Lady?” One of the paramedics leaned around Sister. “We’re taking your husband to the hospital in Oneonta. You want to ride in the ambulance?”

I didn’t bother to explain that Luke wasn’t my husband.

“Of course. How is he?”

“We’ve got him pretty stable.”

The two young women came out lifting Luke down the steps as if he weighed nothing. He had regained consciousness, but looked puzzled.

“Patricia Anne?” he said when he saw me.

“I’m going to ride in the ambulance with you, Luke.”

“Where’s Virginia?”

“She’ll be along later,” I lied.

“What about the policemen?” Sister called as I followed the gurney.

“I don’t have anything to tell them.”

The ambulance doors closed, and I got the hell off of Chandler Mountain.

All ambulance drivers should be women. The one who was actually doing the driving took the hairpin curves gently. The other woman sitting in the back with Luke and me introduced herself as Tammy Parsons. Around thirty and pretty with dark curly hair, she held Luke’s hand and told us about the new house she and her husband were building up near Gadsden on the river. A real log cabin from a kit.

“Must be a big kit,” Luke said.

Tammy smiled. “Now, aren’t you doing fine.”

“Luke? You awake enough to tell me what happened?” I asked.

“I saw Virginia.”

“In the church?”

“Yes. In the church.”

I leaned closer because his voice was getting fainter.

“Are you sure it was Virginia? What happened? Did you fall and hit your head?”

There was no answer.

“He’s gone again,” Tammy said, checking gauges. “He’s okay, though. If he’s got a fractured skull, it’ll be tomorrow that we have to worry about. The swelling.”

I could have done without that news.

“How long have y’all been married?” Tammy asked.

“We’re not. He’s my cousin.”

“He one of the snake handlers?”

“What?”

“At the church. Is he one of the snake handlers? We get called up there every now and then. Last time the fellow’s arm was the size of an elephant’s leg, I swear, before they called. Wasn’t much we could do for him. Course he’d been drinking strychnine, too.”

Tammy looked up and saw the expression on my face. I’m sure my mouth was open.

“What?” she asked. “Y’all aren’t handlers?”

I found my voice. “Of snakes? Good God, no.”

“Well, I just figured maybe you were since you were at the Jesus Is Our Life and Heaven Hereafter church.”

I was having trouble breathing. “People handle snakes there?”

“Oh, sure.” She studied me. “You really didn’t know?”

I shook my head no.

“Didn’t you see that box at the front? That’s where they keep the snakes.”

And the paramedics had seen that box and that was why they were falling over each other wanting to know if the snakes were up. And I hadn’t put two and two together.

My Lord. I put my head down on the gurney. It was too surreal. Four days ago, I had been on the Concorde zipping back from Europe. Today I was riding in an ambulance down Chandler Mountain from a snake-handling church.

“You okay, ma’am?” Tammy asked.

“I think so.” I just hoped the ambulance didn’t have too many more curves to swing around.

“They say that Chandler Mountain has the most and the biggest rattlesnakes in the world,” Tammy said proudly. “I wonder if that woman in the church was bit.”

Not even thoughts of a sale at Bed Bath & Beyond could rescue me, especially when Tammy said, “Your cousin here looks like the Chandler Mountain booger got a hold of him.”

“The Chandler Mountain booger?”

“Yes, ma’am. You never heard of it?”

I shook my head no; Tammy seemed surprised.

“Sort of a cross between a bear and a wildcat. I’ve never seen it, but lots of folks up here have. It makes an ungodly noise. Kind of a whine and a screech and a moan all at one time.” Tammy shook her head. “You don’t want to get in the way of the booger. No, ma’am.”

For a moment I thought she was teasing, trying to see how much a naive flatland foreigner would believe.

“A cross between a bear and a wildcat?”

“Oh, yes, ma’am. You hear that noise, you want to get away quick.”

She was serious.

The staff of the Blount County Medical Center emergency room was expecting us. Luke was whisked off and I was ushered into a small glass cubicle to answer all of the questions that I could.

“Bye.” Tammy stuck her head in the doorway. “She don’t know about the snakes, Irene. The booger, neither.”

Irene waved. “Just as well, Tammy. Bye.”

Irene was a middle-aged woman whose head fit right on her shoulders. Whoever had broken the girl’s neck at the church would have had trouble with Irene. I shivered, pushing the thought aside.

“You want some coffee, Mrs. Nelson?”

I nodded. We’d get the name straightened out soon enough. When Irene got up, I saw that she was built like a box. Not only was there no neck, there was no discernible waist. She was back in a moment with a Styrofoam cup of coffee, though, and the nicest smile. Irene, I decided gratefully, was the perfect person for this job, sturdy and comforting.

It took several minutes after I explained to her that I was Luke’s cousin, not his wife, for her to locate his insurance cards. She called the treatment room where they had taken him, and a nurse brought Luke’s wallet out. Irene had me go through it to find his cards. The first card I pulled out was his driver’s license. Luke looked startled in the picture. Vulnerable. I suddenly felt like crying.

“Here.” I handed Irene the insurance card.

“Trash!” she said.

“Blue Cross?”

“Of course not. Look what just walked in. Don’t turn around. Just look.”

Between jet lag and everything that had already happened that day, I was totally confused.

“What?”

“Well, just turn around a little bit and look. You won’t believe this.”

A tall bearded man had walked into the emergency room. He was wearing a black short-sleeved T-shirt that had
KILL THEM ALL. LET GOD SORT THEM OUT
emblazoned in large white letters below a death’s head that was wearing a pirate’s hat.

“My God!”

He was here to rob the emergency room of its drugs. And there was nothing between us and his semiautomatic but glass. This was it. This was Death. I waited.

Death sat down and glanced through a
Southern Living
magazine.

“Comes in here every afternoon to pick up his wife,” Irene sniffed. “She’s nice as she can be. One of our best nurses. Just no sense.”

My heart began to beat again. I could feel it drumming against my ribs.

“Well, it’s none of my business she wants to be a fool,” Irene said. She picked up the card. “Okay, let’s see what we’ve got here.”

The outside door opened again and two young women came in brushing off their coats.

“It’s snowing, Irene,” one of them called as they headed down the hall.

Irene waved in their direction. “Snow. Just what we need.”

I thought of the hairpin curves on Chandler Mountain. Surely the policemen would let Sister leave before the roads got too icy.

“Things ice up around here in a second,” Irene said as if she were reading my mind. “Causes all kinds of problems.”

Guilt. I had left my sister on top of a booger-occupied mountain in a snowstorm in a snake-handling church with a dead body.