Till Dirt Do Us Part Page 5

When I walked into Chickadee’s, I was surprised to see Daisy Atwood in a heated discussion with Aileen Brock. She no longer wore the tired blue uniform but instead was dressed in a threadbare sweater and faded jeans.

  “I’m sure you must understand we’re awfully sorry to see you and Anna go.”

  “Yeah. Thanks for all you did.” Was Miss Aileen kicking Anna out just days after her father was possibly murdered? This woman was cold. She wasn’t the kind of person I wanted to mold my young daughter’s mind.

  “Are you sending Anna home too? Don’t you have any compassion?”

  Aileen Brock turned toward me, her second problem parent of the day. “I hardly think this is any of your business.”

  “Coco is in the corner thinking about her bad behavior.” Coco stood there, her hands in front of her, looking remorseful.

  Aileen turned back to Daisy, ready to close out her enrollment.

  “What about Anna?” I repeated.

  “Don’t worry about it,” Daisy said to me. “Since Wade’s death, we can’t afford Chickadee’s.”

  “We will miss this sweet girl.” Aileen reached down and tried to ruffle Anna’s blackhair that was so similar to her father’s. I couldn’t help but noticed that the child flinched.

  “You couldn’t give them just a month?”

  “Mrs. Atwood’s situation has nothing to do with you, and I would advise you to keep out of it.”

  I was already on thin ice, and the look she gave me made it clear that it would be best for me to butt out at this time. She pointed to me and then Coco. “Take your child home and again attempt to re-educate her on her negative behavior. Two strikes.” She held up two fingers as if we were counting off numbers together. The visual aid was the last thing I needed to get her message.

  Coco and I followed Anna and Daisy out, but then I turned and said, “If we return.”

  “I can’t believe Miss Aileen sent Coco home again,” Leo said that night at dinner. Tyler was sucking up the food like a sponge, his regular post-basketball-practice routine. Zach’s head was in a book, and he had only taken a few morsels of his dinner. These two boys were growing up in the same home, and yet they were turning out so differently. Tyler was the athlete and participated in football, basketball, and baseball. He was busy all year long.

  Zach was uncomfortable in sports, and because of his exposure to Rocky and the Pecan Bayou Gazette, he now fancied himself a future journalist. I couldn’t be prouder of either boy.

  Zach chose to read about people like William Randolph Hearst, while Tyler was enamored with the famous bout between Magic Johnson and Larry Bird.

  “Did I ever bite?” Zach asked.

  That was an interesting question; I hadn’t thought of that before. Zach never really was a biter. Because I was a single mom, I either had to have him in daycare or with Aunt Maggie when he was Coco’s age. I never remembered a biting incident with Zach. But I did remember there were biters in his preschool class.

  “No. I don’t think you did. Did you ever get bit?”

  Zach pondered it for a moment. Then he turned to me with recognition in his eyes as he remembered something. “Yes! Do you remember that big burly kid? What was his name? Marco? Max? It started with a M. Anyway. He used to chase after me like the monsters in Pac-Man. His real talent was how well he covered it up.”

  “How did he do that? For goodness sake, he was only three or four.”

  “I can’t remember. All I know was the kid that did the biting never got blamed for it.”

  That was interesting. Leo took hold of Coco’s chubby hand. “Coco, were you biting at school today?”

  As my husband and daughter faced each other in profile, I realized how similar they were. Coco was just a miniature version of my handsome Leo, the only difference being my chestnut hair, instead of Leo’s dark blond.

  “Coco no bite.”

  I wasn’t sure if she was telling him that she had reformed or was proclaiming her innocence.

  “Good because Daddy doesn’t want to see you losing days at Chickadee’s. You like playing with your friends, right?”

  Coco brightened up with that idea, so much so that I hoped Leo wouldn’t talk about Chickadee’s anymore.

  “And how is your gardening coming along, Betsy? Did you get all of the boxes filled with dirt?”

  “Yes, they’re all filled. Believe it or not.”

  “I’m sure having our sweet girl there to help made a difference.” He gave Coco an approving smile.

  “She certainly knows how to put her spin on things.” I tried not to think about it.

  “I even went to the gardening meeting.”

  Tyler came up for air. “Was Mrs. Sanford there?”

  I was surprised he knew who she was. “Do you know Enid Sanford?” He was referring to the okra queen with the floppy hat who was so ready to dismiss my amateur gardening efforts.

  “Everybody knows Mrs. Sanford. We have to walk by her yard on the way home from school. One day Mike Obermeyer threw down a candy wrapper, and it bounced into her garden. She threatened to call the police on him. That old lady is wacko.”

  There was a knock at the front door, and then my father’s voice echoed down the hall. “Is anybody home?”

  I checked my mental calendar; this was not his usual night to dine with us. Whatever reason he was stopping by had to be important. I was almost certain this was the night he loved to watch the two-hour block of Cops on television.

  “We’re back here.” As if we were anywhere else this time of day. My dad entered still in his crisp navy-blue uniform. He must’ve come directly from work.

  “What’s going on? Is everything okay?”

  My dad pulled up a chair and grabbed an empty corn tortilla. “Everything is fine. We got the report back from Wade Atwood’s stomach.” He added some tilapia, some tomatoes, salsa, and cheese. He was taking his sweet time about this. I fidgeted.

  “And?”

  “And Wade Atwood had a heavy dose of sedatives in his system.”

  “Really?

  “If a murderer wanted a death to look like a suicide, having the victim sedated made things a whole lot easier. Wade Atwood had no choice.”

  “So, are they changing the ruling from suicide?”

  “Well, there are some conflicting facts here. First of all, there were powder burns on Mr. Atwood’s hands and head, meaning that he did have his hand on the trigger when the gun went off. But then we have new evidence showing that he was fast asleep when it happened.

  “Which means it can’t be suicide.”

  “That’s what I’m thinkin’.”

  I let out a squeal. “I have to call Daisy.”

  “Hold up there. You don’t need to call her just yet.”

  “Daisy desperately needs the insurance money. She said one thing Wade made sure of was that he had an insurance policy in place. It was a big one.”

  “How big?”

  “A million-dollar policy.”

  “If they were in such financial straits, how could he afford to pay premiums for that kind of policy?”

  “I don’t know, but somehow they were managing it.”

  “Seems like an awfully strange thing for a man of forty to do. Healthy guys like that usually have a standard policy.”

  “Maybe so, but it’s going to make a difference for Daisy and her little girl.”

  “I suppose we’re going to have to reevaluate the case. One thing you need to remember is having that big of a payout makes Daisy look pretty guilty. That gives her motive. I suppose we’ll have to change this to a murder investigation.”

  I pounded my fist against the table. “I knew it.”

  Coco echoed me. “I knew it.”

  My father reached over and kissed Coco on the forehead. “That’s my little investigator.”

  CHAPTER 7

  Now that all my seeds were planted, I decided to paint my planter boxes a cheerful color. I might not be able to make anything grow, but at least it would
look good on the outside. In the company of Enid Sanford and Delta Haney, I couldn’t hold a candle when it came to gardening, but I sure knew how to slap paint on something and make it look better. I chose to make the planter boxes a sunny yellow and then added a white border of about two inches thick around each structure. I achieved a good amount of work on the project because Anna Atwood was over for a playdate with Coco. The two girls kept themselves busy first playing in the sandbox and then playing with Coco’s dollhouse. Finally, they drug out her princess tent and placed it under the tree. Anna’s doll, Miss Millicent, an old-fashioned stand-up doll with a frilly pink-and-white pinafore figured prominently in their games. All in all, it was a very pleasant and productive afternoon. Memories of seeds splayed everywhere were quickly receding in my mind. Happily, there were no occurrences of biting, even after Anna took Coco’s favorite plastic pony with purple hair. I scolded Coco and told her to share. Begrudgingly, she handed over the horse. I was just about to take the girls in for some cookies and milk when Daisy Atwood pulled up in the driveway. As the young mother stepped out of the battered station wagon and held her arms forward, her little girl ran to her.

  “Did you have a good day?”

  I answered before Anna could get a word out. “They had a splendid time together. These two get along.” Daisy surveyed my garden with interest. I knew she was noticing the bright-yellow planting boxes.

  “Wow. What a beautiful garden.”

  “Well, nothing is growing yet, so you might want to save your praise. You probably read in the paper I’m in the Pecan Bayou Gazette’s gardening contest. I’m really not much of a gardener.”

  “Looks good to me.”

  “Thank you,” I answered, thinking how smooth it looked on the top, which didn’t reveal the mishmash of seeds below.

  “I know I probably shouldn’t ask you this, but is the dirt in the boxes the same dirt that ...”

  “Yes. I’m sorry.”

  Daisy let out a sigh. “It’s still so hard to believe. Wade was right there, and no one knew it. I’m just sorry you got dragged into all of this.”

  “If it will give you any comfort, the police thoroughly checked the dirt. My father told me about Wade’s stomach contents. That’s good news for you, huh?”

  Daisy smiled and sat down wearily at my weathered picnic table. Breathing out a sigh, she said, “Yes. I suppose it is. I still have to deal with the insurance company, but it’s a start.” Her hands were red and chapped, probably from having to have them in dishwater. Her frame was slight, and even though Anna was young, Daisy hadn’t kept any of the baby weight. She could gain ten pounds and still look great.

  “Have you figured out what you’re going to do yet?”

  “Not really. It’s just an awful lot to put on a person. What I need is to be able to have enough money to take care of Anna. To make the money, I need to have a decent job. To get a decent job, I need to have some sort of degree or something.”

  She was right. With what little education she had, she was destined to work the drive-through the rest of her life. She needed to have a degree. “Did you get your GED?”

  “When I was seventeen and in high school, I had big dreams of becoming a dancer. I was the top student in my dance class. I was on point at age twelve. It just seemed right that my life would be dance. I was young and dumb and headstrong, and one night I packed my bag and headed for New York. I was sure that once the ballet companies there saw me dance, I would have a job within a day. I couldn’t even get an audition.”

  “That took a lot of guts to do something like that,” I told her. Little Daisy wasn’t afraid to take a chance. I liked that about her.

  “Then I tried all kinds of other dance companies. The only ones who wanted me were not the kind of people I would dance for. But I’ve always been a survivor, you know, and I didn’t get pulled into all the things that young girls get involved with in New York. I was too embarrassed to come back home, so I started waiting tables. My mother offered to fly me home countless times, but I just couldn’t do it. I had to do it on my own. After two years, I’d had enough and took a bus to Texas. All I achieved was to become a high school dropout, so I started waiting tables. I was at the truck stop when I met Wade. He would come in looking so handsome and with so much mischief in those blue eyes. It wasn’t long before he stole my heart.”

  “Wow.”

  “That’s my story.”

  “Have you ever thought about going for your GED?”

  She laughed. “My GED? I’m too old for that now, don’t you think?”

  “You’re never too old. I believe that you could go to college.”

  “Where is this coming from?”

  “I just listened to your story, and you seem to have the will and gumption to do anything you want to do.”

  “Gee, I wish my mother felt that way too,” she said, her lip curling down.

  “Is it tough living with your mom? I don’t think I could live with my dad anymore.”

  “I guess I shouldn’t complain. She’s sure been there for me lately.”

  “I think they have GED classes down at the community center on Saturdays. I’ll make you a deal. If you go back and get your GED, I’ll babysit Anna.”

  “You would? That’s really sweet of you. I can’t pay much, but what do you charge an hour?”

  “Nothing. I think you should get your GED, and then you should go to college and study dance. Then you’ll open up your own dance school. Miss Daisy’s Dance School. Oh, and one other thing, Coco gets free tuition.”

  “I can’t believe you would do that. Even though I saw you at Chickadee’s almost every weekday for the last few months, we really don’t know each other all that well. “

  “Our girls get along. Babysitting is not hard for me, and Anna kept Coco out of trouble this afternoon.”

  Daisy eyed the girls and then looked back at me. “Anna just doesn’t know you, yet. Give her time, and she’ll get them both in trouble.”

  After Daisy and Anna left, I laid Coco down for a nap. I pulled out some adorable old-fashioned garden signs that looked like seed packets I had found at Sprouts. The only problem was I couldn’t put them in my garden yet because I wasn’t sure where everything was. One might say cucumbers, but underneath the soil, there might be carrots growing. Hopefully, nobody would memorize where I had certain things so that when the crops did come up, I could switch around the markers.

  I returned to my kitchen and listened for any kind of stirring in Coco’s room on the monitor. I still wasn’t ready to return her to Chickadee’s yet. Miss Aileen would have to do without us for one more day. The first-week competition of the garden club was only hours away, so I decided to put the plant markers in the ground at random. I glanced out the back window at my brand-new yellow planter boxes. It did cheer up the yard. The boys were not pleased that I had taken some of their square footage for games. Grabbing my baby monitor walkie-talkie, I headed out to the yard to implant my markers.

  Even though the seeds had been mixed up, I remembered what the book said about putting certain kinds of plants in certain areas. I arranged the plant markers as if everything was in the proper place. I stepped back from the garden and crossed my arms, looking at my handiwork. It actually looked good. I moved over a couple of yard gnomes and placed them strategically in front of the boxes.

  As I was admiring my design, a car pulled up behind me. Had the garden committee shown up early? What if Coco woke up in the middle of my presentation? This could not be good.

  A woman in her early forties stepped out of a white Ford sedan. She glanced at her phone and then at the numbers on the house. Her blond bangs were lightly frosted, and the rest of her hair was pulled back into a loose bun. She had clear blue eyes, and when she caught sight of me working in the yard, she walked toward me.

  “Are you Betsy?”

  If she had been at the gardening meeting, I didn’t remember seeing her. This was a new face to me. Maybe she was the scout th
at the garden committee sent out first just to make sure that everything was safe.

  “Hi. Yes, I’m Betsy. I don’t think we’ve met.” I extended my hand to shake hers, but she seemed a little shocked at my gesture.

  “No. We haven’t met.”

  “Well as you can see,” I spread my arms out so she could survey my acreage. “It’s all really just dirt boxes for right now.”

  Again, the woman looked confused. Then she nodded and continued, “Yes, the dirt. I wanted to talk to you about the dirt.” Wow, this judge was thorough. Would she pull out some sort of soil test kit?

  “I ordered it from Joe at Sprouts.” Did she know about the extra element I’d found in my dirt? For some reason, she didn’t look like she was all that interested in gardening. She didn’t have that sun-dried look some of the more experienced gardeners had achieved.

  “I read about you in the paper. Actually, I guess I should explain myself. You see, I’m not here about your garden, although it is very lovely. I’m here about Wade Atwood.”

  This woman looked to be pretty close to him in age. “Are you his sister?” It was a wild guess. From the expression on her face, I could tell it was the wrong guess.

  “Wade doesn’t have a sister.” Was she going to make me guess? I didn’t have to wait long for my answer.

  The woman stated simply, “I’m Emmie Atwood. Wade’s wife.”

  CHAPTER 8

  “I’m sorry, did you say you were Wade Atwood’s wife?” Maybe the heat of the hot February sun was getting to me. Last I recalled, Wade Atwood’s wife was in her thirties with brown hair. This lady was definitely past thirty and had blond hair. Was this a Twilight Zone moment, and now my alternate universe was beginning to be revealed?

  “Yes. I understand you were the one who found Wade’s body?” Her blue eyes were direct and unflinching. Just the facts, ma’am, I could hear somewhere in the back of my head.

  “Yes.”

  “You look surprised to see me. Do you have any idea why your police department didn’t try to contact me? We need to make final arrangements. I would also like to know what’s going on in the investigation.”