Trapped (A Jenny Watkins Mystery Book 5) Page 12

  Zack began typing on his laptop, which was still on his lap—the same place it had been when Jenny had fallen asleep. After a short time he said, “It looks like there’s a song called Poor Mourner’s Got a Home At Last.”

  Jenny laughed. “I guess that’s an appropriate name. I’ve got to say, you found that pretty fast.”

  “You forget I’m savvy. Here, listen to it and tell me if it’s the same song.” Zack clicked the play button and the familiar tune filled the room.

  “That’s it,” Jenny said, closing her eyes. “That’s the song.”

  Zack kept the song playing as he typed. Eventually he pressed the mute button. “Check out the lyrics. It goes Oh mourner, mourner; ain’t you tired of mourning; bow down on your knees and join the band with the angels.”

  “Oh my God, I could cry,” Jenny said sincerely. “That kind of supports our theory, don’t you think?”

  “What theory?”

  “That Samuel was the last surviving member of the Davies family. The words say Ain’t you tired of mourning?” Jenny leaned over onto one elbow. “If he watched every member of his family die, don’t you think he’d be tired of mourning? And why else would this woman be encouraging him to join the band with the angels? She wanted him to be with the rest of his family.” She shook her head quickly and repeated, “I could seriously cry.”

  “I guess that does make sense.”

  “And,” Jenny continued, “why would a slave be sitting by his bedside if someone from his family was still alive? Wouldn’t his parents have held that vigil if they were able to? Or a sibling?” She scooted herself further upright. “And why was he in here? Jessica said this was the master bedroom. The other kids were in different bedrooms when they were sick, presumably their own. I would think Samuel would have been in his own bedroom, too, if his parents were still alive to use this one.”

  “Why would he use this bedroom, even if his parents were gone?”

  “Maybe the bed was more comfortable. Or the fireplace was bigger in here.” Jenny grew sadder when she added, “Or maybe simply being in his parents’ bed brought him comfort. He was just a child, after all.”

  “Here’s a thought,” Zack added. “If Samuel was just a kid, and his parents did die, wouldn’t that have given the slaves the ability to escape if they wanted? A sick eight-year-old boy wouldn’t have been able to prevent them from running off.”

  The tears that had been threatening Jenny’s eyes made it to the surface. “Maybe this woman could have run off if she wanted to, but she didn’t have it in her. There was a kindness in her face that I just can’t explain. She looked at Samuel lovingly as she sang.” She wiped her tears as she glanced at Zack. “I get the feeling that she wouldn’t have been able to walk away from a deathly ill child, no matter what the circumstances.”

  “That’s amazing,” Zack replied.

  Jenny spoke in a whisper. “That is amazing. And you know the saddest thing? Look how this kind and gentle woman was forced to spend her life.”

  Zack didn’t say anything as he shook his head.

  Despite the mild nausea, Jenny threw the covers off of her and put her feet on the floor. “I know what I have to do,” she said with determination.

  “And what is that?”

  Reaching for her clothes on the chair, Jenny replied, “I have to go to a craft store.”

  Jenny returned with painting supplies and set up shop by a window in the lobby. Ideally she would have worked outside in the natural sunlight, but the temperatures were still a little too chilly for that. Light shining through the window would have to serve as a second best. Closing her eyes to envision the woman with the amazing voice, Jenny recalled the features she would try to capture on canvas. She wished the painting would have been able to reflect the beauty of this woman’s voice; Jenny knew a simple two-dimensional image wouldn’t do her justice.

  Zack came down to the lobby shortly after Jenny got started. “Will it bother you if I talk to you while you paint?” he posed.

  “Nah,” Jenny said, “but I won’t look at you when I respond.”

  “I’m used to that,” he replied. “That’s how most of my ex-girlfriends conversed with me. So, I searched every state within reason and found no results for Samuel Davies’ grave.”

  Jenny fixated on her pencil as it touched the canvas. “Huh. That’s a shame.”

  “I’m beginning to think he was never formally buried.”

  With that Jenny looked at Zack. “Never buried? What do you mean never buried?”

  “I think he was buried,” he replied, “just not formally so. If he died from this disease that took out the rest of his family—and he died last—who would have been there to bury him?”

  Jenny thought about that for a moment. “This woman that I’m painting right now.”

  “Exactly. And I don’t think she’d have the means to give him the type of burial the rest of his family received, and certainly not at the same place.”

  With her blood frozen in her veins, Jenny replied, “Do you think he’s buried somewhere around here? Like on the property?”

  “I think it’s possible,” Zack replied. “Where else would a slave bury somebody?”

  “My goodness,” Jenny whispered. “If that’s true, no wonder his spirit lingers.”

  “I’ll tell you what,” Zack said. “You keep working on that, and I’ll start doing a little research on slave burials.”

  Jenny nodded slightly. “Sounds good.”

  She flashed him a quick glance and a smile, but she noticed he wasn’t looking at her. His gaze was fixed beyond her and through the window. He squinted as if to get a better look at something over her shoulder before blurting, “Holy shit.”

  Chapter 12

  “What is it?” she asked, quickly looking out the window in the direction Zack had stared.

  “It’s a dog.”

  Spotting the wretched animal Zack was referring to, Jenny hung her head in relief. “Okay, seriously, we’re in a haunted house. You can’t look off into the distance and say holy shit like that. I nearly soiled myself.”

  “Sorry,” he replied, “I just didn’t expect to see a dog roaming around out there.”

  Regaining some of her composure, Jenny looked back through the window and took a better peek at the dog, who appeared to be an emaciated and dirty black lab mix that gazed longingly in the direction of the inn. Immediately her heart softened. “Awww. Poor thing. It looks hungry.”

  Without another word Zack and Jenny both headed toward the back door of the inn, opening it slowly as not to frighten the animal away. It acted unfazed by their appearance. “He seems socialized,” Zack noted. He took a few steps toward the dog and squatted down, extending his hand. After a few kissing sounds, he gently said, “Come here, buddy. I won’t hurt you.”

  With its tail between its legs, the dog slowly approached. After allowing it a few sniffs, Zack used his extended hand to scratch its head—a gesture which was well received by the animal.

  “He has a tag,” Jenny said. “What does it say?”

  Zack tilted the bone-shaped tag toward him. “It says his name is Baxter, and there’s a phone number.”

  “We should call it,” Jenny said. “They must be missing him.”

  “My phone is inside,” Zack confessed. “You?”

  “Mine too. You keep Baxter here and I’ll get my phone. I’ll see if Jessica has any food for him, too, while I’m in there.” Jenny scampered back into the inn and headed straight for the kitchen, where Jessica was working with another cook to prepare the evening meal. “Excuse me, Jessica,” Jenny began in an apologetic tone, “I’m sorry to bother you.”

  Jessica smiled pleasantly. “It’s no bother. What can I help you with?”

  “Do you have any…meat?”

  “Meat?” She looked puzzled. “Are you having a craving?”

  With a laugh Jenny replied, “No, not a craving. There’s just a dog outside and the poor thing looks like it hasn�
�t eaten in ages.”

  A blend of frustration and concern graced Jessica’s face. “Is it Baxter again?”

  Again? “You know Baxter?”

  “Yes, I know Baxter,” Jessica replied as she headed for the refrigerator. “He’s shown up here several times already.” She pulled out some ground beef and prepared to brown it as she spoke. “I always give him a little bit of food and bring him home, but he inevitably shows back up again, looking hungry and neglected every time.”

  Jenny was so glad she stopped in the kitchen before finding her phone. “How many times has he shown up?”

  Jessica fired up the stove. “This is probably the fourth or fifth time now.”

  “Here,” Jenny said, extending her hand toward the skillet of raw meat. “I can do this. You’ve got a dinner to prepare.”

  “Oh, it’s no bother.”

  “Truly,” Jenny said. “I’d rather be useful.”

  With a smile Jessica conceded, and Jenny took over the ground beef duty.

  As she waited for the pan to sizzle, a million thoughts swirled around Jenny’s head. “Is there a vet around here?” she finally posed.

  “A vet? I’m sure there is one in town, about twenty minutes to the west.”

  Jenny stirred the meat and thought some more. “How about a pet store? Or even a general department store?”

  Jessica shifted her eyes in Jenny’s direction, her slight smile indicating she understood where the conversation was going. “There are a few discount superstores in town.”

  Jenny returned the smile. “And about that shed in the back…”

  Jenny walked outside with a bowl full of ground beef. Baxter immediately began to jump when he saw it; apparently this was what he had come for. She put the bowl down on the grass and marveled at how quickly its contents disappeared.

  “Did you bring your phone?” Zack asked.

  Jenny looked lovingly at Baxter. “Nope.”

  “Did you forget?”

  “Nope.”

  “What do you mean, nope?”

  “I mean, I didn’t forget.”

  Zack clearly didn’t understand. “Aren’t you going to call his owners?”

  Jenny reached out her hand and scratched the dog’s head. Once she had Baxter’s trust, she squeezed the clasp that held his collar together, detaching it, allowing the collar to fall to the ground. “Oh, look. We can’t call his owners. He has no tags.”

  Zack stared at her with awe. “Jennifer Watkins, you aren’t seriously thinking about stealing this dog…”

  “No, I’m not thinking about stealing this dog.” She cupped Baxter’s face in her hands as he licked her chin. “I’m definitely stealing this dog. And by the way, I wouldn’t consider it stealing. If we stole him, that would mean we went onto their property and took him, and that’s not what happened. Jessica says this dog is a repeat customer. Baxter continues to find his way here because his owners aren’t keeping a proper eye on him, and apparently they’re not taking good care of him, either. If he was well cared-for he wouldn’t keep coming back in this condition. So, yes, while I do plan to take this dog home with me, I do not consider it stealing. I believe in this case his owners have simply relinquished him due to their lack of care.” She looked at Zack and batted her eyes.

  “You know, it gets me kind of hot when you talk this way.”

  Jenny laughed out loud. “Does the word relinquish do something for you?”

  This time Zack laughed. “No. I just love the way you are all sweet and innocent, but then you can turn around and break the rules and totally justify it.”

  “Well, this is justified. Besides, when else have I broken the rules?” Jenny kept her gaze, and both hands, on the dog.

  “Um, you broke into a house?” Zack reminded her.

  “That was to keep a kid out of jail.”

  “You totally lied to a guy’s face to get him to confess a secret to you.”

  “Who,” Jenny asked, “Archer?”

  “Yes, Archer.”

  “He was hindering an investigation.”

  Zack couldn’t contain his laughter. “See? This is what I’m talking about.”

  Jenny spoke with conviction. “I believe every one of my actions was totally reasonable under the circumstances.”

  “And now you’re taking someone’s dog.”

  Jenny turned to Zack, still cupping Baxter’s face. “Look at him,” she said. “You can see every one of his ribs. He’s covered in burrs and probably fleas and ticks. Can you honestly tell me that you think the right thing to do is call his owners and bring him back to the people who allowed this to happen in the first place?”

  “Absolutely not,” Zack said with a smile, putting his arm around Jenny, “and I just love that you don’t either. Although, if we do keep this dog, that really makes this whole thing look like a Scooby-Doo episode.”

  “So where is he now?” Ingunn asked at the dinner table, referring to the dog.

  “Zack brought him to the vet. He wasn’t able to make a formal appointment for Baxter until tomorrow afternoon, but the vet said he could at least go in, get the dog weighed and start him on flea and tick medicine. He needs to be on that stuff as soon as possible.”

  “That’s good,” Ingunn replied. “Where will the dog stay until you go home?”

  “The shed out back. While it’s hard to say for sure because he’s black, I think it’s safe to assume he has fleas. The last thing I want to do is bring him in the house…or the inn, in this case. Jessica doesn’t need an infestation. So for now Zack is buying Baxter a comfy bed, some toys and a bag of food so he can be comfortable out there in the shed until we go back to Tennessee. It’s a good thing the weather is mild; that shed isn’t climate controlled. If it was summer or winter I’m not sure what we’d do with him, to tell you the truth.”

  Ingunn raised her finger. “I’m glad you’re keeping the dog. Dogs are good protection.”

  Jenny flashed her grandmother a smile that wasn’t returned. “Zack was harassing me about it—jokingly, of course—telling me I’m stealing him.”

  “You are stealing him,” Ingunn confirmed.

  “Amma,” Jenny said with semi-feigned offense, “I thought you just said you were glad I’m keeping him.”

  “I am,” Ingunn replied as she shook more pepper on her steak, “but that doesn’t mean you’re not stealing. You are taking something that you know belongs to someone else. That’s stealing.”

  Jenny lowered her shoulders. “You make it sound so…wrong.”

  “No, not wrong,” Ingunn said with a shake of her head. “Illegal, but not wrong.”

  Jenny smirked at her grandmother. “Aren’t they the same thing?”

  Ingunn once again shook her head. “Not necessarily. Suppose I collapse, right now. What would you do? You’d bring me to the hospital, right?”

  Confused, Jenny nodded. “That’s right.”

  “On the way to the hospital, if you hit a parked car, would you pull over and try to find the car’s owner? No. You’d keep driving to the hospital. Then, the next day you’d figure out who owns the car so you could pay for the damages. See? Leaving the scene of an accident is illegal, but in this case it wouldn’t be wrong. It would be wrong to let me die in your passenger seat while you knocked on doors to see who owned the dented car.” She took a large bite of her steak.

  Admittedly relieved by her grandmother’s approval, Jenny laughed. “I said something similar to Zack last night, but I tried to explain why that made it not stealing.” She made finger quotes.

  “Oh, it’s stealing,” Ingunn said definitively. “Make no mistake about it. It’s just not wrong in this case.”

  “I’m glad I have that clear,” Jenny said with a laugh. “Oh, Amma, please don’t let me forget…we need to save a plate for Zack when he gets back. No doubt he’ll be starving.” After thinking about it a moment, she added, “He’s always starving.”

  “He’s a growing boy.”

  Afraid t
o let herself get too full, Jenny slid her plate forward and rested her elbows on the table. “I took a nap this afternoon,” she began, “and I had a very interesting dream...or actually vision might be a more appropriate word.”

  Ingunn didn’t look up. “Oh yeah?”

  “Yes. I was Samuel, sick in my bed, and I was being sung to by a slave woman.”

  Ingunn shifted her eyes toward Jenny’s sketch, which still sat on the easel on the other side of the room. “Is that the woman you’re drawing?”

  “Eventually it will be a painting, but yes, that is her. I just wanted to make sure I had captured the outline of her image before I stopped for dinner. I can go back and put the color in later. But anyway, Zack and I have a theory about her. We think Samuel may have died last, and this woman stayed to take care of him. We decided that if their owners had all died—except Samuel, of course—that would have been the perfect opportunity for the slaves to escape…but this woman didn’t. She stayed to provide Samuel with some comfort.”

  “Noble,” Ingunn commented.

  Jenny’s eyes shifted solemnly toward the table. “Yes. Very. That’s why I wanted to immortalize her in a painting. I feel like people need to know about her.”

  “Also noble,” Ingunn added, although Jenny felt her actions paled in comparison to those of the woman she was painting.

  After a polite smile, Jenny added, “Zack and I theorize that Samuel may have died from his illness and is buried somewhere on the property. That probably would have been the only means this woman would have had to lay him to rest, and it would be a rational explanation as to why he lingers. It also explains why he relayed the message that he wants to be reunited with his family, but then he got mad when I told him to cross over. That wasn’t what he meant. He wants to be physically reunited with his family at the cemetery.”

  Ingunn nodded with understanding, although she didn’t comment.

  “If we are correct, I’d like to find Samuel and give him a proper burial with the rest of the Davies crew, although I haven’t a clue about how we would go about doing that.”

  “I might have some insight,” Ingunn said with a wink. “Remember how my husband made his living?”