A Life for a Life by Lynda McDaniel (best selling autobiographies .txt) 📖

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don’t want no one to leave and spill the beans. I wished I’d never heard of the GT; I wouldn’t be in this mess.” He ran his hand through his hair and shook his head. “I know I’m ramblin’ here—I just mean I feel kinda contaminated by the whole thing. I can’t get her face out of my mind, and it’s killin’ me.”

“Would you like some coffee, uh, what is your name?”

“Bruce. Bruce Canning. And no thanks, ma’am, my nerves are already shot. You don’t happen to have a spare PBR?”

As I pulled a can of beer from the cooler, I could see Abit sitting in his chair, whittling on the head of a walking stick. How was I going to explain this to him? I got myself some coffee. “Here you go, Bruce. Now why did you come here today?”

He took the beer, popped it open, and drank half the can in three long gulps. “I guess I came in to clear the air. I know you musta thought I did it. I saw you at the funeral, and I’ve been hearing about your snoop... ‘er, looking into this. I figured maybe I could help. Man, I’ve got to get some sleep. I thought maybe helping you would help me.”

I sipped my coffee, which wasn’t very fresh but gave me something to hold on to. I was starting to believe him, but he still made me nervous. “Do you have any idea who called you?” He shook his head. “Okay, then, tell me what this Green Treatise is all about—just the Cliff Notes version.” He gave me another blank look. “A brief description,” I added.

“It all started about the road closure into the wilderness. These guys like to hunt, and that wilderness has been ours for our whole lives and on back into our granddaddies’ lives and beyond. It’s a slap in the face—not only can’t we hunt in there no more, but we have to pay taxes to maintain it. That pisses a bunch of us off. But it’s not worth all the bullshit and hate stuff going on. I mean, they built this road through my granddaddy’s land, you know? He hated it at first, but then he was happy to have an easy road into town. Some things are worth fighting for, but other things just create a shit storm and make life a bitch.”

“Okay, so if you didn’t do it, it’s likely whoever called you must have—or is working with whoever did. What did the voice sound like? Man? Woman?”

“I couldn’t tell—like someone had a rag over the phone and was talking funny. It sounded ...”

The phone interrupted Bruce, and a few beats later, the bell above the door started jingling. I ran to the front of the store, grabbed the phone, and asked the caller to wait a minute. I looked up and saw Kitt storming in.

“Gregg’s been arrested for the murder of that girl,” she blurted out.

It took me several seconds to take that in. My brain just couldn’t make sense of it. Then I realized someone was shouting, “Hello, hello?” on the phone. That was Cassie, Gregg’s assistant, calling to tell me the same news, though I had trouble making out what she said because Kitt was still talking. “Cassie, let me call you back. I need to talk with someone first.”

“He couldn’t have done it,” Kitt was saying. “What in the world would be his motive?”

“Okay, slow down, Kitt. I know this is a blow, but fill me in on why he was arrested—and who arrested him.”

“Brower. He said he heard from Cassie, when she found some suspicious writing in his office.”

“That doesn’t sound like Cassie.”

“Oh, sure it does. She’s such a goodie-goodie. Oh God, this community. Why did I ever decide to come here?”

Yeah, some days I shared that feeling, but this wasn’t about us. I shooed her out the door, telling her I needed some firsthand information. I headed back to the storeroom.

“Well, you’re off the hook, Bruce. Gregg O’Donnell has been arrested for Lucy’s murder.” His face was a picture of bewilderment, but I didn’t have the answers. “Look, I don’t know more than that.” I paused, suddenly worried he might have been behind this. Quite a coincidence that he showed up playing Mr. Innocent just when Gregg was arrested. “Wait a minute. Did you plant that shit in Gregg’s office?”

“What? I have no idea what you’re talking about. And I wouldn’t step foot in a gov’ment office. That ain’t the kind of action you take in GT, if I still cared about that.”

“Well, maybe. Anyway, you’d better get out of here. You can use the back door. And keep your ear to the ground. You’ll hear all about it soon enough, I’m sure.”

He grabbed his coat, opened the backdoor, and disappeared into the meadow behind the store. I went back to the front of the store and decided to close up so I could see Gregg before it got too late in the day. Then I remembered my promised call to Cassie. I couldn’t figure out why she was calling me about this mess, except maybe because I’d been the only one looking into the murder. And I was Gregg’s friend, even if he didn’t feel that way about me. I thought about calling her back, but I didn’t have time. She’d just have to deal with her actions on her own until I knew more.

When I stepped outside, Abit was standing near the door Kitt had left open. “Hey there, Mister. Big news, eh?”

“I haven’t heard nothin’—just seen all the commotion.”

“Gregg’s been arrested for Lucy’s murder,” I said. “I don’t know any more than that, but I plan to find out.”

Chapter 38: Della

Cleva pulled up as Abit and I were talking. She’d already heard the news, of course, and didn’t want to go to the jail alone. I knew she was fond of Gregg, and her maternal nature was stirred by his troubles. We took my truck. When we walked into the sheriff’s office, Brower was alone. Too bad, because Lonnie usually helped mitigate his orneriness. I braced for a caustic greeting.

“Hey, Missy, I owe you an apology.” I must have looked shocked, because he quickly added, “I know, I know. I didn’t believe this was more than a simple suicide, but the evidence is black and white now. Lonnie’s out checking Gregg’s truck for fingerprints, as we speak. And the SBI is sending someone over to help us out.”

I was disgusted by his “simple suicide” comment, but I kept quiet. And who was he kidding that the State Bureau of Investigation was helping him? They’d be taking over the investigation. But I needed to stay in his good graces so he’d allow us to talk with Gregg. “That’s good, glad you’re getting some help,” I said. He studied me, trying to detect any sarcasm, but seemed content there wasn’t any (at least not that he noticed). “Can we see Gregg—just for a few minutes?”

Brower looked at his watch. “It’s past visiting hours.”

“Oh, come on, Sheriff. You don’t even have visiting hours. When was the last time this jail was actually used for what it’s intended for?” I asked. “We just want five minutes to check with Gregg. He did right by me when I was alone in the woods, and I just wanted to see if there’s anything I can do for him.”

“Yeah, well, he wasn’t even supposed to be on that call. That was in my territory.”

“No one’s questioning your authority now. I just want to see if he needs anything.”

“He needs a good lawyer, that’s what he needs. So unless you’ve recently added Juris Doctorate after your name, I ...”

“Come on, big guy, help us out here.” Both Brower and I turned around to see Cleva standing with her hands on her hips. She had the voice and presence of authority—just like my memories of a school principal. From the look on Brower’s face, he must have had the same reaction. “Let us see Gregg for five minutes. Then we’re gone,” she added.

Brower unlocked the door to the jail area, and motioned for us to enter. He locked the door behind us, scrunched his face up to the small reinforced-glass window, and mouthed, “FIVE MINUTES!”

Gregg looked rough, though he seemed relieved to see us. “I honestly don’t know what’s going on,” he said. “They came down to Asheville and hauled me out of a Forest Service meeting like a common criminal, in front of my friends and colleagues. Then Brower rough handled me and practically threw me in this cell. This is ridiculous. It’s a total misunderstanding.”

“What about the note?” I asked straight away. We needed to jump right in; Brower wouldn’t give a second over five minutes.

“What note? Like I said, I don’t know what this is all about—other than Brower enjoying some tit for tat.”

“Well, you can thank that little miss holier-than-thou Cassie for all this ...” Cleva said. She didn’t hold much faith in the Church of God, and neither did I, but I needed to stop her before she got on a soapbox.

“Gregg, we have only five, no, make that four minutes,” I said. “What can we do for you? Do you need anything from your home? A lawyer? I plan to talk to Cassie and get the full story for you first thing in the morning.”

“I need my dopp kit and a change of clothes. There’s a key in the wasp trap behind the house.” Not a likely place for burglars to poke around, I thought before he added, “Della, please come see me tomorrow after you’ve talked to Cassie. All I know is she turned me in because of some note—that I didn’t write, dammit. That’s so crazy. If it weren’t for her high-standing in the church, I’d think she wrote that note. As for the lawyer, let’s hold off on that. Like I said, this is just a big misunderstanding.”

Brower was unlocking the door to the cells. I needed to comply so he’d let me visit again tomorrow. As he’d pointed out, without the JD after my name, I had no official right to see Gregg. “Okay, will do. Try not to worry. We’ll get this all straightened out.” I squeezed his outstretched hand and Cleva reached through the bars to pat his back.

“Okay, girls, time you broke out of jail,” Brower said, chuckling. We waved to Gregg and fled that hell hole.

Chapter 39: Abit

Wild. Totally wild. I’d never seen the store like this. Cars coming and going, Della running round, putting up her Sorry sign and leaving me and Wilkie to take the flak. But she wasn’t gone long. She and Cleva drove up just as Wilkie was leaving for a doctor’s appointment. I figured they’d go inside, and I’d have to sit out there by myself and get the news later. But they came back out, each with a coffee mug, and Della offering a Coca-Cola to me.