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Authors: Sandra Parshall
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knowledge,” Spring said. “Semi-common, perhaps.”
“All right.” Tom’s impatience was getting the better of him, turning his voice brusque. “You brought it up, so what about it? You think the murders are drug-related? Do you know who they sold the stuff to?”
“Oh, my goodness.” Spring gave a little laugh and fluttered a hand. “How would we know anything about drug-dealing?”
“You need to tell me everything you know, and tell me now.”
Another silent three-way consultation followed. After a moment, Winter cleared her throat and spoke. “They grew it for medicinal purposes only. Lincoln used to drive it out of the county to sell it. I don’t know where. But his health was deteriorating, his memory and coordination were impaired, and he stopped driving months ago. Since then, we’ve seen an unusual number of vehicles coming and going over there. When we happen to be driving past.”
Or looking out your upstairs windows, Tom thought. “You just said you haven’t seen any strange people or cars over there.”
“You wanted to know if we’ve seen them in the last few days,” Spring pointed out, as if correcting a student’s misstatement. “And we haven’t. Not this week.”
Tom felt like growling at them. “Describe the vehicles you’ve seen.”
In a perfectly synchronized movement, the three women all shrugged. “I’m afraid we can’t tell the difference between one vehicle and another,” Winter said.
“I do remember a black one,” Summer offered. “And perhaps a blue one? I can’t really be sure. I believe they had Virginia license plates. The plates were white, in any case.”
“Can you describe any strangers you saw over there? The drivers of the vehicles?”
“They were all men,” Winter said, her tone decisive.
The other sisters nodded.
“As to their ages or appearance,” Winter went on, “I’m afraid we can’t be of any help. We saw them from a distance, after all.”
“Oh, wait.” Summer looked suddenly animated. “There was a woman who visited the Kellys frequently, and she usually left with something in a bag or box. I believe you know her. She’s a Melungeon woman. Her granddaughter works for Dr. Goddard.”
“Holly?” Brandon exclaimed. “You’re saying Holly’s grandmother—”
Tom held up a hand to stop the deputy. Brandon and Holly were engaged, planning a Christmas wedding, and he couldn’t be objective about Holly’s grandmother. “Are you sure it was Mrs. Turner you saw? And she left with packages?”
Winter waved away the questions. “Oh, for heaven’s sake, the woman wasn’t buying marijuana. She’s an old friend of Marie’s. Marie always sent her home with some fresh eggs, and fresh corn too when it was in season. That’s all it was.”
Brandon slumped back in his chair in obvious relief.
Further questioning led nowhere. The Joneses insisted they had nothing more to tell the police.
Back in the car, Brandon dug into the bag of brownies Summer had given him and Tom to take with them.
“Don’t eat all of those,” Tom said. “Rachel likes brownies. I want to save one or two for her.”
“I’m hungry.” Brandon talked around the lump in one cheek. “If I don’t eat some of these I’m gonna start gnawing on the car’s upholstery.”
“What did you think of the sisters?”
Brandon swallowed before he spoke. “They just rambled all over the place, didn’t they? Like little old ladies that’re getting fuzzy in the head. Except they’re just as sharp as you and me. My guess is, they know something they don’t want to tell us about.”
“Yeah, I got that feeling, too.” Frustration beat like a drum in Tom’s chest. The sisters had steered them every which way except toward the truth. But he had no idea what the truth was or how to get to it.
Chapter Ten
Last stop: Tavia Richardson’s place. Tom pulled his cruiser into the asphalt driveway, and he and Brandon bounced in their seats as the tires hit holes and
“All right.” Tom’s impatience was getting the better of him, turning his voice brusque. “You brought it up, so what about it? You think the murders are drug-related? Do you know who they sold the stuff to?”
“Oh, my goodness.” Spring gave a little laugh and fluttered a hand. “How would we know anything about drug-dealing?”
“You need to tell me everything you know, and tell me now.”
Another silent three-way consultation followed. After a moment, Winter cleared her throat and spoke. “They grew it for medicinal purposes only. Lincoln used to drive it out of the county to sell it. I don’t know where. But his health was deteriorating, his memory and coordination were impaired, and he stopped driving months ago. Since then, we’ve seen an unusual number of vehicles coming and going over there. When we happen to be driving past.”
Or looking out your upstairs windows, Tom thought. “You just said you haven’t seen any strange people or cars over there.”
“You wanted to know if we’ve seen them in the last few days,” Spring pointed out, as if correcting a student’s misstatement. “And we haven’t. Not this week.”
Tom felt like growling at them. “Describe the vehicles you’ve seen.”
In a perfectly synchronized movement, the three women all shrugged. “I’m afraid we can’t tell the difference between one vehicle and another,” Winter said.
“I do remember a black one,” Summer offered. “And perhaps a blue one? I can’t really be sure. I believe they had Virginia license plates. The plates were white, in any case.”
“Can you describe any strangers you saw over there? The drivers of the vehicles?”
“They were all men,” Winter said, her tone decisive.
The other sisters nodded.
“As to their ages or appearance,” Winter went on, “I’m afraid we can’t be of any help. We saw them from a distance, after all.”
“Oh, wait.” Summer looked suddenly animated. “There was a woman who visited the Kellys frequently, and she usually left with something in a bag or box. I believe you know her. She’s a Melungeon woman. Her granddaughter works for Dr. Goddard.”
“Holly?” Brandon exclaimed. “You’re saying Holly’s grandmother—”
Tom held up a hand to stop the deputy. Brandon and Holly were engaged, planning a Christmas wedding, and he couldn’t be objective about Holly’s grandmother. “Are you sure it was Mrs. Turner you saw? And she left with packages?”
Winter waved away the questions. “Oh, for heaven’s sake, the woman wasn’t buying marijuana. She’s an old friend of Marie’s. Marie always sent her home with some fresh eggs, and fresh corn too when it was in season. That’s all it was.”
Brandon slumped back in his chair in obvious relief.
Further questioning led nowhere. The Joneses insisted they had nothing more to tell the police.
Back in the car, Brandon dug into the bag of brownies Summer had given him and Tom to take with them.
“Don’t eat all of those,” Tom said. “Rachel likes brownies. I want to save one or two for her.”
“I’m hungry.” Brandon talked around the lump in one cheek. “If I don’t eat some of these I’m gonna start gnawing on the car’s upholstery.”
“What did you think of the sisters?”
Brandon swallowed before he spoke. “They just rambled all over the place, didn’t they? Like little old ladies that’re getting fuzzy in the head. Except they’re just as sharp as you and me. My guess is, they know something they don’t want to tell us about.”
“Yeah, I got that feeling, too.” Frustration beat like a drum in Tom’s chest. The sisters had steered them every which way except toward the truth. But he had no idea what the truth was or how to get to it.
Chapter Ten
Last stop: Tavia Richardson’s place. Tom pulled his cruiser into the asphalt driveway, and he and Brandon bounced in their seats as the tires hit holes and
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