“Are you cops? Is Ted in some kind of trouble?”
“I really can’t say. We just need to speak with him. You said you think he’s home? Why?”
“The car’s in the exact same position it was two days ago. Ted usually pulls it into the carport. Keeps the sun from beatin’ down on it. And I would’ve heard it start up. I’m a light sleeper.”
“How about when you weren’t here?”
“Thing is, I’ve been here the last three days. Got laid off from my job, so I’ve been workin’ here fixin’ a bunch of stuff up. Haven’t left once.”
“So you saw Ted come in?” said Reel.
“Yeah. Two days ago. And that car hasn’t moved from that spot.”
“How can you be so sure about that?” said Robie, glancing at the car’s positioning.
“I’m a mechanic. I notice stuff about cars. You see the left rear tire? It’s a retread. Has those yellow marks on the sidewall? Well, you see that yellow arrow? It’s pointin’ straight down. It was pointin’ straight down when he drove in and stopped. I noticed because I asked him what had happened to his tire. He said he’d run over a nail and had to get that one. I went over and looked at the retread to make sure it was okay. Sometimes they screw you on that, but it looked fine. That’s how I got a real good look at that arrow. So how likely is it he’d park a second time with that arrow in the exact same position?”
“Not likely,” said Robie. “Good eye.”
He glanced up at the front door and then at Reel.
“What do you think?” he asked her.
“I think we need to find out if the man is home or not.”
“Do you think somethin’ might have happened to him?” said the woman.
In answer Robie and Reel drew their weapons.
Both the man and the woman took steps back.
Robie said, “If we’re not back out in five minutes, call the cops, okay?”
The woman looked like she might faint, but the man said, “Right, got it. Five minutes.” He looked at his watch as Robie went to the front door and Reel headed around back.
Robie picked the front door lock.
Reel put her elbow through a glass pane of the back door, reached through, and turned the knob.
They met in the middle of the first floor, having each cleared their half of the main level.
They both eyed the stairs going up.
“Mr. Bunson?” called out Robie. “We need to speak with you. Are you okay?”
There was only silence as a response.
“Okay, this is getting weirder by the second,” commented Reel.
They headed up the steps, their guns still out and pointing ahead.
They cleared one bedroom, then a second.
And then came the bathroom in the hall and their search was over.
The man was lying in the bathtub. There was no water in the tub but he was naked. His eyes were open. He was not breathing and had not been for a while.
There was dried blood between his legs.
They took a closer look.
“Damn,” said Robie.
The man’s privates had been cut off.
“Emmitt Barksdale?” asked Reel.
“Sure looks like him. It also looks like the guy I saw in the bushes at the Willows.”
“I don’t see any obvious wounds. Other than someone turning him into a eunuch. I doubt he bled out from that.”
Robie drew closer and touched the dead man’s arm.
“He’s not in rigor.”
“If it came and went we’re talking at least twenty-four hours.”
Reel pulled out her phone and punched in 911.
With a resigned sigh she said, “The Mississippi cops are really getting to know us.”
Chapter
70
Reel had also called Taggert, and she showed up an hour after the local police did.
It had taken Robie and Reel a long time to explain things to the locals, but when Taggert arrived she pitched in, and it seemed unlikely that either Robie or Reel would be arrested for breaking into the place.
The local detective, Clyde Driscoll, was young and obviously nervous. He had mentioned to Taggert, in a voice loud enough for Robie and Reel to overhear, that this was his very first homicide after five years as a beat cop.
Taggert suggested that she could assist and then recommended that Robie and Reel could as well. The result was that, while the coroner was examining the body, the four of them made a very thorough search of the crime scene and the house.
Barksdale’s bed had been slept in, and his pajamas were on the floor next to the bed.
“So maybe the killer disrobed him here,” Driscoll had suggested. “There’s no blood on the pajamas.”
They had found financial records in the name of Ted Bunson that indicated Barksdale made his living through investments. He wasn’t wealthy, but he did make enough to live modestly. There were bills for the care of a Jane Smith, and they were fairly substantial.
“Maybe that’s why he lives so modestly,” said Reel.
“I remember Emmitt from his time in Cantrell,” said Taggert. “And though it’s been a long time, I could pretty much swear that was him.”
Robie nodded. “Though he hasn’t aged well.”
“Well, being dead doesn’t help one’s looks,” retorted Taggert.
They had told Taggert about meeting Jane Smith at the institution.
“You really think she could be Laura Barksdale?”
“Let’s put it this way: I can’t say for sure that’s she not.”
They found only one item from Emmitt’s past life in Cantrell as a member of the prestigious Barksdale clan.
The photo was on a table in the bedroom. It presumably would have shown the four Barksdale family members. Only Laura and Henry Barksdale’s images had been cut out.
“Okay,” said Robie. “Two members deleted and two members left. Father and daughter gone. Mother and son left.”
“And that symbolizes what?” asked Taggert, who was staring closely at the photo and the two dark holes where the images had once been.
“Maybe Laura in a state mental institution and father Henry… out there somewhere?” said Robie.
“You think Henry came here and killed his only son?” said Taggert in disbelief.
Robie said, “I don’t know. It’s one possibility. But to cut off his penis?”
There were also numerous Bibles in the house and writings associated with religious studies, which showed Emmitt Barksdale to be a very devout man. They also discovered he was a youth minister at the local Baptist church.
“I don’t remember Emmitt being that religious,” said Robie.
“Neither do I,” said Taggert. “He was mostly a party animal who did what he wanted and to whoever he wanted. He even tried it with me once when he was drunk.”
Robie looked at her surprised. “What happened?”
“His nose took a long time to heal.”
“Well, sometimes people find religion later in life,” said Reel. “To atone for a past misdeed.”
Driscoll had one of his techs dust the frame for prints, and then the tech took the photo out of the frame and did the same.
The tech said, “What’s this?”
He had turned the photo around. There was writing on the back. It looked relatively recent.
Taggert read out each word and number.
“L 18, Calvin, R-O-H.”
The tech looked at the others, bewildered. “What the hell does that mean?”
“A code maybe,” said Reel uncertainly.
Driscoll nodded. “We have a guy who’s good with that. I’ll get this to him.” He put the photo in an evidence bag and sealed it.
“What we didn’t find was interesting,” said Reel.
“What we didn’t find?” asked Driscoll curiously.
Taggert answered. “No smartphone and no computer. Most people have both. Everyone has one or the other.”