haven’t been able to. It looks so easy in the movies.” Neva brushed a strand of brown hair out of her eyes and smiled weakly.
“When were you first aware of it?” asked Diane.
“I think it was after I visited the historical society yesterday morning. That’s down the street from the courthouse. After I looked up some records in the courthouse, I walked down to talk to them,” said Neva. “Nice place. It’s run by volunteers. I’d never been in it in all the years I’ve lived in Rosewood.”
The two policemen David had enlisted for security had been standing by their car, smoking cigarettes. They threw the butts down and approached the porch.
“Hi,” one said. “We were just wondering if you still need us tonight-since things kind of went in another direction.” He laughed nervously.
“Now that we’ve found human bones in the well,” said Diane, “we need someone to keep the area secure. Can you stay?”
The men looked relieved. Diane guessed they were counting on the extra income.
“Oh yeah, that’s fine,” said the other policeman. “We’re just going to check the back road.” He moved his hand in a circle, indicating the route. “The whole trip won’t take five minutes. We want to make sure nobody’s parked back there like before.” They went back to the patrol car and drove off down the driveway.
Diane looked at Neva. “Did you discover anything at the historical society?”
“Not really, but this is where it gets… well, it’s one of those coincidences that makes David nervous,” said Neva.
David tended to be paranoid and was very proud of it. He said it kept him prepared. His paranoia had been proven justified on too many occasions, which made him a trifle arrogant, but did keep them all primed for any eventuality.
“The crime scene I worked after lunch today-Mary Phyllis Lassiter. She was an older woman, about seventy, who was strangled in her home sometime last night. The creepy coincidence is… she was a volunteer at the historical society and she was there yesterday when I was there, though I didn’t speak to her directly.”
“How do you speak with someone indirectly?” asked David.
Neva made a face at him. “The woman I spoke with asked Ms. Lassiter whether she knew of an artist who might have lived years ago in Pigeon Ridge. That’s this community. Apparently, Ms. Lassiter lived here as a girl,” said Neva, “before she moved to Hall County.”
“Did she know the artist?” asked Diane.
“She said no. She was knitting and didn’t even look up. Which was kind of strange, because until then, she watched and talked like a magpie to everyone who came in,” said Neva.
“You were followed and she was murdered?” said Diane.
“Yes,” said Neva.
“You’re right,” said David. “That’s the kind of coincidence that makes my scalp tingle.”
“You didn’t work the crime scene alone, did you?” said Diane, frowning.
“No. I know your rules. Izzy was working it with me. One thing caving taught me is to follow protocol,” she said.
“Yes!” shouted Mike. He pulled Neva to him and kissed the side of her head.
Diane laughed. “It does that.”
Diane’s phone rang as she was about to ask Neva another question. She took the phone from her pocket and looked at the display. It was Izzy.
“Hello, Izzy. What’s up?” she said.
“A little interesting turn of events,” he said.
“Are you in the crime lab?” asked Diane.
“Yeh, I’m working on the evidence Neva and I collected today. The wife has one of her Mothers Against Drugs meetings. They meet here in the museum and I like to stay late and work when she’s here.”
“What’s the interesting turn of events?” asked Diane. She didn’t particularly like the word
“The shoe print we collected from the Lassiter murder today was made by the same hiking boot from the Payden attack. Think we got some punks targeting little old ladies?” he said.
“That is a surprise,” Diane said. “Have you processed any of the other evidence?”
“Yes, but the print is the only really valuable thing I’ve found. It was a fairly clean crime scene. Like someone slipped in and out without touching much.”
“I need to call Hanks,” said Diane. “I’m glad you called me with this. Oh, before you hang up, Neva might be being followed by someone in a black SUV with tinted windows.” She stopped and looked over to Neva. “Did you get the make?”
“Cadillac Escalade,” said Neva.
Diane told Izzy the make. “Have you noticed anyone following you?” she asked.
“No, but I’ll be on the lookout. Escalade. That’s kind of expensive, isn’t it?” he said. “I’ll watch for a tail. Did she get the license number?”
“No,” said Diane.
“Like I said, I’ll keep a lookout.”
After she hung up with Izzy, Diane told the others about the boot print.
“You’re kidding,” said Neva. “The same person as here?”
“What do you think?” said David.
“Izzy was wondering if it might be someone targeting elderly ladies, but I don’t think he knows about the historical society connection. Marcella went to the historical society too, when she was looking into who owned the house. She was asking about the artist who lived here, as well. That seems to be a key-”
Diane’s phone rang again. This time it was from an unknown wireless caller. She answered.
“Yes?”
“Is this Dr. Fallon? This is Delbert Griffin, the paramedic who keeps showing up.” He gave a little laugh. “I asked my granny about that woman’s name, and she doesn’t remember. She said she thought it was something like a bird, but that didn’t sound right to her either. She said it’s been more than sixty years. She and her friends just called her the ‘rich witch.’ Knowing my granny, she might have had another word in there too, that rhymed. Granny was somewhat of a rascal when she was young.”
“Did she say how old the woman was?” asked Diane.
“I asked her if the ‘witch’ was real old. She said at the time she thought she was, but she was a teenager, and everyone over thirty looked old. Now that she looks back, she thinks she wasn’t all that old. Granny’s in her seventies, so I don’t know what ‘not all that old’ means to her. I suppose anybody younger than she is.”
“You and your grandmother have been very helpful,” said Diane. “Thank you for calling. If the name comes to her, please let me know.”
“I will. You know, when somebody is asked to come up with those old memories, they don’t come to the surface right away. It might be that she’ll wake up in the morning and it’ll come to her,” he said.
“I hope so. Is Hector doing okay?” asked Diane.
“He’s in pretty good shape, really. He and his brother are a hoot,” he said.
Diane agreed, thanked him again, and hung up.
“Marcella told us the signature on the paintings was a drawing of a bird,” said Diane, after she told the others what the call was about. “It looks like the artist we are looking for had somewhat of a reputation at one time.” Diane stopped and stared at Neva.
“What?” asked Neva.
“What you said about the Lassiter woman talking like a magpie. A magpie is a bird.”
The three of them looked at Diane with a great deal of skepticism.
“That’s a stretch,” said David. “It doesn’t even make sense.”
“No. The word just reminded me of something. Initials. The first three letters of magpie are
“Who?” said David. “What are you talking about?”
“The writer of the note on the bottom of the desk drawer,” said Neva. “MAG. Remember? So, she was the artist?”
