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Lisa cleared her throat. “The sad truth is I never knew her. It’s a bit of a search for my history. I was so hoping somebody here could help me find her.” Lisa’s plea was a little over the top. But it seemed that a bit of drama was called for here.
“Oooh. Like a DNA search or what have you? Everybody looking for their people. Well, let’s see what we’ve got, darlin’. Trichel with ach?” Lisa nodded, then the woman’s fingers flew across her keyboard.
They waited a few minutes while Rose made some noises as she searched. A few grunts,hmmphs, andwows.
“Well, this is strange, Miss Lisa. Looks like your grandmomma’s been taken over by aliens.”
“Beg your pardon?” Lisa replied.
Rose gave a little snort at her clever response. “Well, she was here, and then she might as well have been beamed up by the Good Lord himself, or aliens, because somebody sold her house and took over her finances, like a trust or something. But there’s no record here of her dying.”
Thatwasstrange. “Is there an institution listed who we might contact?” Tanner asked. I stood back and let him and Lisa ask the questions.
“Hmm. Looks like there’s a reference to a credit union listed, but it’s not familiar to me. I’m sorry to say I can’t give out the information unless it’s a public document. You know, birth, death, that kind of thing.” Rose looked around and then over her shoulder. “I already said too much, you know?”
“Is there anything you might tell us that will lead somewhere?” Tanner asked.
“I’ll just say that this poor lady appears to have been hijacked. Did she have a mental problem or something? ’Cause that’s what they do to people when they lose their minds, you know? They pluck them up and put them someplace.”
Rose nodded and winked at us like we should catch on.
“But you didn’t hear nothing from me.”
She gave a little turn of her fingers and pulled them across her lips, as if to say her lips were sealed. “O-okay. Thanks, Rose.”
The three of us started to move away, but Tanner turned back. “Rose, there were a couple guys we ran into on Lemon Street. Guys with lots of tattoos in a big, loud truck. They gave us a bad vibe. Might want to have a couple officers check it out.” This was a small town. Characters like that would be known to law enforcement.
Rose frowned. “That’s Jimmy and Larry, our local weed dealers. They just got out of jail again. Probably looking for some new customers. Those two are mostly bark and no bite, but the sheriff keeps them on a short leash. Best to stay out of their way if you can.”
“Got it. Thanks again for your help.”
*
Carly
I hadn’t gottenin on the conversation with Rose in the courthouse, but I’d been listening hard to what had transpired. I heard what she hadn’t said: “Something strange is afoot here.”
“It sounded like that woman was telling us that someone took Marie, or took over her finances. Or both.” Tanner appeared thoughtful.
“How does somebody do that?”
“I’m wondering what happened when her husband passed. Could she have been sick or maybe not in her normal state of mind? Maybe we should go back and knock on the neighbors’ doors where she used to live. Surely she had friends in the area. Larry and Jimmy should be gone by now, right?” I was annoyed we’d had to leave so quickly because of those idiots.
“We can go now and give it a try,” Tanner agreed.
We drove back to Lemon Street. Thankfully, there wasn’t any sign of Larry and Jimmy. “We should split up. Lisa and I can go together. Most of the cars are older models with no after-market modifications, so chances are, it’s an older crowd.”
Tanner indicated the house across from Marie’s. “This one has more vehicles in the drive, so I’ll take it. Not to be sexist, but if there are any more Larrys or Jimmys around, I’d rather be the one to face them.”
“No argument here.” Lisa shrugged.
Lisa and I approached a small duplex and rang the doorbell on the left-hand side first.
Dogs barked. Big dogs, by the sound of it. “Hang on, I’m coming.” A rather feeble voice answered. “Let me get these dogs put away.” There was some shuffling and banging and then the door opened. A tiny black woman, not five feet tall, stood before us. “How y’all doing today? Can I help you?” But she kept her screen door open barely a crack.
“Hello, my name is Carly Bertrand, and this is Lisa Henry. She’s Marie Trichel’s granddaughter. Do you remember Marie? She used to live right there across the street.” I pointed to the little shotgun house and then turned back to watch as the woman assessed us. Our clothes, our manner, our words. Who could blame her?
She squinted her eyes at us, and at some point decided we meant her no harm, because she opened her screen door wide. “I’m Jean. Marie was my friend. Y’all want some sweet tea?”
