Chapter 8
CHAPTER 8
Sunday morning started off with a quick trip to church. Kenneally went with Ami even though he didn’t normally get up that early to darken the doors back in Leesburg. He’d gotten out of the habit when he was in service and then the thought of going made him wonder if lightning might strike if he did go, but he was delighted to know that was not the case when he stepped through the door with her that morning.
The church was rather large, at least larger than he’d imagine for a small town like Dixie, but it was well attended and he learned that it was the only church in town other than the interdenominational church where Tilda’s funeral service was being held later that afternoon.
“Was Tilda a member there?” he asked as they left.
“No,” Ami said. “But Selena tells me that Pastor David Weeks is holding the service for her and therefore insisted on doing it at his church. They were friends back in high school.”
“Ah.”
“I guess he feels this it’s his way of sending her off,” Ami said. “It has to be hard losing both her and Judson so close together. They were all friends in high school from what Tom told me.”
He drove them back to Ami’s house and they warmed up the last of the gumbo for lunch before they went to Gertrude’s service and graveside before going to Tilda’s.
By the time they returned, the sun was setting low in the sky and Ami was ready to kick off her shoes and get out of her dress. “I think I want to take a shower and change into something comfortable.”
“Go ahead. I’ll be fine on my own while you do,” Kenneally said. “How about we order a pizza for dinner? I’ll go pick it up if you tell me what you want and where to go get it.”
She walked into the kitchen and took a menu card off the refrigerator for Little Italy Pizzeria. “No need to pick it up. They deliver. Just call them from my house number and my address is programmed by it. I like anything but anchovies and Italian sausage.”
“Got it.”
“Thanks.”
With that she disappeared into her room, closing the door behind her.
He placed the pizza order before going upstairs and changing out of his suit, putting on jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt since it had gotten chilly tonight. The first one since he arrived in town, making it feel more like December. When he came back down, he turned on the Christmas tree lights and put on some holiday music. Then he went to the kitchen to make them some drinks and put them on the table.
Ami was sitting on the sofa wrapped in a multi-colored square patterned Afghan when he returned.
“Are you cold? Should I turn on the heat?” he asked.
“I’ve felt a chill ever since we left Tilda’s graveside. It’s like someone has walk across my own grave,” Ami said. “I know that’s an old wives’ saying, but I don’t know how else to explain it. I feel like something bad is going to happen.”
Kenneally sat down beside her. “I’m sure it’s nothing, but we won’t rule it out either. After all, you were afraid something had happened to Gertrude when she wasn’t out walking Clementine, and it had. I should have listened to you. Always trust your gut.”
Ami nodded. “And like you said, it could be nothing but me being oversensitive right now after losing three people so close to me.”
The doorbell rang and Kenneally went to answer it. The pizza delivery guy handed him a hot cardboard box out of the insulated bag he carried and hurried away.
Shutting the door, he turned and caught Ami watching him. “Are you ready to eat?”
“Starving.” She followed him to the table still wrapped in the Afghan and they ate in silence.
Kenneally respected her somber mood, and he didn’t want to pry into her feelings. She’d had to deal with so much emotionally in private all weekend while staying upbeat in public. He understood her dilemma of being mayor was like always being a person with two faces. It couldn’t be an easy job and still be true to oneself.
After they finished their meal, he offered to take the pizza box and their empty glasses into the kitchen. Ami didn’t object. That told him so much about how she was feeling. Normally she’d be insisting that she could take care of it all.
When he returned, she found her snuggled into a corner of the sofa, laying her head on the back, staring at the Christmas tree.
“It’s a pretty tree,” he said. “You decorated it well.”
“Thanks,” she said. “My mom collected the ornaments over the years. Some dating as far back from when I was a child. I’m surprised they survived our move from Dixie and her return.”
“You never speak much about your father. Is he still alive?”
“No. He passed before mom returned. Heart attack.” Ami raised her head. “He wasn’t a bad man. They just grew apart as some couples do over the years. Maybe they shouldn’t have married in the first place, I don’t know. Mom always said the one true blessing from their marriage was me and she never regretted that.”
“So, you and your dad weren’t close I take it?” Kenneally said.
“Not really. He was in sales, and he traveled for the company he worked for a lot. I think that contributed to the strain on the marriage as well,” Ami said. “Mom wanted him to find a job that would keep him closer to home, and he did try for a while before they finally separated, but he wasn’t successful. And that contributed to their arguments.”
“I’m sorry you have those unpleasant memories,” he said.
“What about you?” Ami asked, her eyes shining with curiosity in the dim light. “What were your parents like? You’ve mentioned breakfast with your grandmother, but you haven’t talked much about your family.”
“Life in South Carolina was great. We were a close family, and my mom and dad were the best, but when I was in high school, they were killed in a car crash while they were driving through a storm and my dad lost control of the car. That’s when I went to live with my grandparents. I lived with them until I graduated and joined the Navy.”
“No siblings?” Ami asked.
“No, just like you, I take it.”
“None.”
There was a short lull in the conversation where neither of them spoke.
“What made you decide the Navy over another branch of the military?” she finally asked.
He shrugged. “I always liked swimming and there was a naval base near where we lived in South Carolina. Maybe that influenced me. I don’t know, but I eventually joined the Seals and that is where I met Hank Patterson.”
“Ah, now I see the connection. But you don’t work with him directly since you are from Leesburg, did you say?”
“That’s right,” Kenneally said. “I have my own organization of Brotherhood Protectors. My guys sometimes have issues playing well with others, so we are known as the Lone Wolf Agency. My office is stationed in Leesburg, Virginia whereas Hank Patterson’s main office is in Montana.”
“I don’t get the feeling that you have issues getting along with others,” she said.
“I don’t, but I understand men that do,” Kenneally said. “For that reason, I believe that makes me the right choice to be their leader and Hank has sent men my way who haven’t fit in with his organization. They’ve flourished with me. Nothing against Hank. We’re good friends. But sometimes my men need their space to work alone.”
Ami nodded.
“Most of my guys are scattered all over the country doing assignments whereas Hank is opening up branches or new offices around the country all the time it seems,” Kenneally continued. “His organization is growing by leaps and bounds. I really don’t know how he manages it all and still has time for his wife and children, except it has to do with great leadership at each new branch that opens.”
“Would that be like Remy that I met?” Ami asked.
“Yes, Remy heads up the Mambaloa Bayou division of Brotherhood Protectors,” he replied. “I’ve even heard that there is talk of an international operation in the works.”
“That is really amazing,” she said.
“And he has a wife and a teething baby, so he has time for a relationship,” she said. “So, it sounds like the job does allow for that. You were saying how you didn’t know how Hank managed it all and still had time for his family.”
“Yes, most of the protectors do have relationships,” Kenneally said. “They have no trouble having those, don’t misunderstand me there. It can be a hazard of the job really.”
Ami tilted her head and scrunched up her nose. “Hazard? I don’t understand.”
“Most of them fall for their assignments.”
Realization dawned on her. “Oh, I see.”
“I warn my men to be careful and yet, every single one of them comes back attached at some point or another,” he said.
“Has it happened to you?” she asked.
“No. I don’t do missions that often.”
“And yet you are here,” she said.
“True, but Hank …”
“Hank what?”
He hesitated for a moment before speaking. “Hank made me a deal that he’d come down closer to New Years and we’d go fishing if I’d take this job. Not that I’d have left you needing a protector once he told me about the situation and it is still iffy that he is coming down. His wife Sadie isn’t one hundred percent sold on the alligators and bringing her small children down here around them.”
Ami laughed. “Have you seen any alligators in Dixie since you’ve been here?”
“Not yet, but it is the Louisiana bayou. I’m sure one will turn up sooner or later.”
“They do, but not that often, especially this time of the year,” Ami said.
“Why is that?”
“Have you noticed the town? We are not swampy. Alligators like swamps. And even though we are a bayou town most of the town proper is inland,” she explained. “Occasionally you will find a gator that will go astray and wander this far from the water’s edge, but that has been rare. Wildlife and rescue stay on top of them to keep town folk safe.”
“That’s good to know,” Kenneally said. “I will be sure to pass that on to Hank when I talk to him next.”
“How old are his children?” Ami asked.
“They’re under six years.”
“Then it would be a shame for them not to get to experience a Tante Arie reading of the Cajun Christmas story or see Papa Noёl who travels by pirogue down the bayou wearing fishing waders and boots,” Ami said.
“I meant to asked you about that yesterday at the Christmas parade, why does Papa Noёl do that?” Kenneally asked. “But I guess you just explained it.”
“What else would a Cajun Santa Claus wear?” she made a funny face.
He laughed. “You have a point.”
He was glad the turn of conversation seemed to have lifted her spirits and put a smile on her face. It had seemed to have gotten her mind off of the two funerals.
“It’s too early to turn in, what shall we do this evening?” he asked.
Ami shrugged. “I supposed we could see what is on television. There has to be a Christmas movie on one of the channels.”
“You aren’t going to make me watch a chick flick, are you?” he teased.
“Maybe,” she teased back.
He groaned with a grin and reached for the remote, handing it to her before getting up and going to turn off the music. When he returned the sofa, she had found a Christmas comedy that they both could enjoy and watch before going to their separate beds.
Ami felt much better when she woke Monday. She felt it had much to do with the conversation with Kenneally the evening before. He was more than her protector. He’d become a friend in the short time that he’d been with her, and she really wanted to thank Hank Patterson for sending him to Dixie. Now that she knew that there was a possibility of getting to meet Hank and his wife Sadie as well as his two children, she had much to look forward to in the coming weeks.
As she dressed to go into the office, her cell phone rang, and the bottom fell out of her stomach. That eerie feeling she’d had as she left Tilda’s graveside service was back, and she reached for her phone in trepidation and winced when she saw it was Tom McManus.
“Hello, Sheriff,” she said, heading into the bathroom.
“Hello, Mayor, I feel like we just had this conversation last week.”
“Another body?”
“Two.”
“Two!”
“And Tilda’s tongue.”
Ami’s knees gave away and she grasped onto the counter to keep from falling. “Where?”
“In the middle of the table.”
“What?”
The frustration in Tom’s voice was audible. “Let me back up and explain,” he said. “The crime scene is at the bed and breakfast and the victims are Connor and Becky Simmons. They were found by a guest sitting at a table face down in their last meal. He was face planted in his bowl of gumbo and she in her Etouffee.”
“I can’t believe this. Kenneally and I were with them Saturday evening before the tree lighting ceremony. Becky asked us in for cider and cookies,” Ami said staring at the framed picture on the wall, trying to calm herself down. “Has Harold examined the bodies yet? Were they mutilated?”
“No. Harold hasn’t arrived yet,” Tom said. “You and Kenneally have time to get here if you want to come by and see the crime scene for yourselves. I thought he might want to since he’s invested in keeping you safe.”
Ami nodded, then realized he couldn’t see her response. “Right. We’ll be right over.”
She ended the call and double-checked her reflection to make sure she had finished her hair and makeup. And then she went to find Kenneally.
He hadn’t come down yet. It was still early. She normally made breakfast for them about this time. She stood at the bottom of the stairs called up, hoping he had already showered and was dressed.
“Kenneally, are you awake?”
The bedroom door opened and he stepped out into the hallway fully dressed for the day. “I am. Is something wrong?”
“We need to leave now,” she said. “No time to wait on Simpson. You’ll need to drive Lolita. I’m too shaken to do so. I’ll explain on the way.”
“I’ll be right down.” He stepped back inside and then returned a moment later, shutting the door behind him and bounded down the stairs, taking her arm. “You’re as white as a sheet. Don’t tell me, has there been another murder?”
She nodded, tears threatening to fall. “Two this time. Poor Connor and Becky Simmons. We’re headed to the B&B to meet up with the sheriff. Harold hasn’t arrived yet.”
They were in the garage and in the truck in a few minutes and headed out. As Kenneally drove, she called Simpson and let him know there was no need for him to pick her up that morning.
When they arrived at the bed and breakfast, yellow crime scene tape had already been strung around the front of the house. Guests were being escorted out with their luggage, not looking too happy to be roused from their sleep so early in the morning and being ousted with nowhere to go.
“We’ve made arrangements for you at the hotel,” the deputy was saying. “It isn’t the same atmosphere as the bed and breakfast, but at least you have a place to stay.”
The other deputy spotted them and escorted Ami and Kenneally inside. “The sheriff is waiting for you in the dining room.”
Ami placed her hand over her mouth when she saw Becky and Conner still slumped at the table in their respective bowls of food. It was just the way Tom had described. And in the center of the table where a lovely Christmas arrangement was there was Tilda’s severed tongue laying on top of it like a partridge in a pear tree.
Unable to look anymore, Ami turned away and hid her face in the comfort of Kenneally’s strong chest. He wrapped his arms around her and held her as she sobbed against him.
“It’s not something you like to see so early in the morning,” Tom said.
“No. Or in the evening either,” Kenneally said. “But she had a strange feeling at Tilda’s graveside that something was going to happen and it has.”
“I’m sorry. I had no idea when I called her this morning,” he said. “But I knew she’d want to know right away.”
“I do,” Ami’s muffled voice said. “I needed to know.”
The sound of voices and footsteps approaching caused them turn and look toward the door way of the dining room. The medical examiner and his assistant had arrived.
“Oh, dear God!” Harold exclaimed. “I know you said you’d found them, but seeing them like this…When will this madness end?”
“I don’t know,” Tom said. “I didn’t touch the bodies to preserve evidence, but I can tell that Connor shows signs of bleeding in his nether regions.”
Harold nodded. “Gotcha. So, we’re thinking it’s possibly another penis severing? And that ornamentation on the centerpiece there is Tilda’s missing tongue?”
“Yes, to the tongue and possibly on the penis,” the sheriff said.
“Hello, mayor, Kenneally, wish we were meeting under better circumstances,” Harold said opening up his medical kit and taking out a pair of latex gloves. He offered them all a pair and then he got to work.
First, he tested the liver temp of both bodies to determine the time of death. While he did that his assistant put paper bags over each victim’s hands to preserve any evidence. Then, together they tried to move Connor’s body back from the table so they get a better look at his crotch area. They ended up tipping the chair backwards too since the body was in rigor.
“I won’t know for sure until I can get him undressed, but with that much bloodstain on his pants I’d say you’re right, Tom,” Harold said. “Now, the bigger question is whether Becky is also missing her tongue and where in the heck will we find them next?”
Ami shook her head. “Not two more deaths. I can’t take the thought of two more people in Dixie dying like this before Christmas.”
Kenneally rubbed her back to sooth her. “Sh-h-h. Let’s not think like that,” he murmured.
“But it could happen,” she whispered. “If the tongue and penis have been taken they will turn up at the next crime scene.”
“Mayor’s right,” Harold proclaimed. “If the past murder pattern has proven anything by this killer, evidence from the last killing will be present at the next murder.”
Ami gasped.
“What?” Tom asked.
“I just remembered Connor and Beck were going to be honored at the reunion this weekend,” Ami said. “Someone is going to have to break the news to the committee.”
“I’m sure word is spreading around town already,” Tom said, “but I will make a call right now out of respect to my fellow classmates.” He walked away to do just that in private.
Harold planted his hands on his slender hips. “This is not going to be a joyous reunion. Four of our members murdered within weeks of the reunion like this. If I wasn’t certain I wasn’t on the killers hitlist I sure wouldn’t be going.”
“Wait, what are you saying?” Kenneally asked. “Do you suspect something that the sheriff doesn’t about these murders?”
Harold stepped close to him and Ami. “Isn’t it obvious?”
“No,” Ami said.
“Look who has been killed. Judson, Tilda, Becky, and Connor. They were all friends in high school. Thick as thieves,” Harold whispered. “A clear sign I’m not on that hitlist.”
“So…” Ami said, but paused a moment. “Do you think the note found in Tilda’s pocket saying her friend is next was referring to Becky and not me?”
Harold shrugged. “Maybe. Now that we know this detail, it’s hard to say for sure, but it is possibility now as we reexamine the facts.”
Kenneally nodded, crossed his arms over his chest and scratched his chin, studying nothing in particular.
Tom returned, starring at all of them with a puzzled look on his face. “What has gotten into the three of you?”
“Just discussing the facts and how we don’t believe that note left with Tilda’s body was meant for Ami now. It may have been pointing at Becky and Connor,” Harold said.
“Holy Cow!” The sheriff exclaimed. “But we haven’t found a note at this crime scene. And the note in Gertrude’s pocket was clearly meant for her.”
“Definitely,” Harold said. “No doubt there.”
“Then if there isn’t another note, maybe there isn’t a next victim,” Tom said, hesitantly.
“I wouldn’t rule it out,” Harold said. “We weren’t expecting there would be a second one after Judson’s body turned up, but there wasn’t a note with his body either, or at least one that we found. The elements could have washed it away or destroyed it.”
“True,” Tom agreed, going back over to the table where the couple at been sitting and looking at it closely. “Is there something here that we have overlooked.”
“Maybe it’s not obvious,” Kenneally said. “Just because they were at the table doesn’t mean the clue would be there. It could be within the dining area.”
He began looking at other tables, the center pieces and the place settings. Ami followed suit, doing the same thing in the opposite direction. When they came up empty handed they returned to the starting point and she picked up the center piece at Becky and Connor’s table, and there was the hidden note with the same horrible hand writing.
One more and the debt will be paid. You know who you are. I am coming for you.
“Dammit,” Tom said. “I was hoping this was over.”
“What does this note mean? The debt will be paid?” Ami asked. “What debt? Did Judson, Tilda, Connor, Becky, and whomever is next do something to owe a debt?”
She looked at Tom and then at Harold. “Come on guys. Spill the beans. You both went to high school with them. Think long and hard. Judson and Connor played on the football team with you. And you told me they dated Tilda and Becky respectively. They were friends and now they are all murdered in brutal ways. There has to be a reason for this.”
Harold shook his head. “I really don’t know. They were close until after graduation and they went their separate ways. Connor and Becky got married. Judson pursued politics. Tilda started her volunteerism.”
“I joined the military for a short stint and then returned to serve on Dixie’s police force before becoming sheriff,” Tom said. “I lost track of them after high school other than seeing them occasionally in town.”
“Then you need investigate their pasts,” she said. “Something from their past is the root of what got them murdered, I’m sure of it. It’s obvious they wanted to keep it buried so no one in Dixie knew about it, but it’s going to come out now that they are dead. I can’t imagine what, but it must be bad for them to have been each killed in the way they were.”
Tom nodded. “You’re right. And we have to figure out who this last person is before they pay the debt with their life.”