In Hell: When Love Kills A Small Town Mystery

Chapter 38

It was over ninety degrees. Yet, there was a fire in the fireplace in Dixie's sitting room that day. Every window was opened, but it was an oppressive day. Noble Brand stood by the flames, drinking brandy, and sweating like a roasted pig with an apple in his mouth.

"After all these years, I still don't know if we arrested the wrong man," Noble said softly, staring into the flames.

"That doesn't change anything. We were justified in believing Virgil murdered Maddie. He took his own life," said Dixie. "Hanging by a bed sheet in his cell. What are we supposed to think?"

He looked at the floor.

"How's your deputy?" she asked.

"Bug lost a lot of blood, but he's gonna be fine. He deserves an Oscar. Playing possum saved his life. And he heard every word of Coffin's confession."

"You were lucky that shot just grazed you, Noble."

"Yeah. You know," he said, "I never suspected Coffin. Not once did he come under my radar as being capable of all these horrendous acts. We called off the search, Dixie. I don't know if we'll ever know what happened to him. It's like Coffin Snell is a ghost that vanished into the fog. Dogs lost his scent at the river. We've used divers and dredged that river bottom. We got nothing. No body. No nothing."

Dixie's eyes glanced in a nearby mirror. She readjusted a curl that had fallen out of place. She looked bad, she decided. Every year seemed to be etched on her face.

"He's probably slinked off into some cave or hole in the ground and died. We can only hope," she said. "I never told you, Noble, but I always wondered if Coffin wasn't responsible for the accident by the river with Prater and Joe."

"What do you mean?"

"Those drums weren't loaded onto ordinary pallets. They were specially designed by me. My pallets made sure those barrels didn't slip into the water before they were meant to. You know I couldn't afford to have attention drawn to my 'waste disposal' system in the river. When they told me the barrels 'slipped' off the pallets, I knew something was fishy.

Coffin had been unusually persistent in his proposals of marriage in the days leading up to that accident. I kept putting him off. He made an odd statement in my presence a few days before it happened. I couldn't help but wonder."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Noble asked.

"I was afraid people would find out my secret. They would have crucified me. I couldn't afford an in-depth investigation. That was the last thing I needed."

"He had us all fooled," he said. "Do you think there really is a homemade bomb under the dirt somewhere on the place?"

"I don't want to think about it. It hasn't gone off yet."

"We can only hope it doesn't," said Noble. "Do you think they'll tell?"

"Joe knows his place, Sheriff," she said.

"Your ways are very persuasive, Dixie."

"I've had years of practice," she said. "Besides, it's easy to keep them in line when they're flat broke. And they must keep quiet or risk not seeing a dime. Twenty-five years will pass quickly. Then, the money's theirs. That's the deal. By then, I'll be dead and gone. It will be no skin off my teeth."

"I guess."

Dixie paced the room like a caged leopard. She was biting her bottom lip, a sure sign of her agitation. Noble Brand had known her long enough to read most of them. Dixie sat down on the couch but hopped up again. Every nerve in her body was on fire.

"Damn that man," she said. "Damn him. I hope he is writhing in hell this minute. In hell!"

Dixie circled the room again. Her pallor was pasty. Dark circles tattooed both eyes. She looked haggard and worn. She stopped by an ornate table that held a silver-framed photo of her brother and her with their mother and father. She looked as fragile as a feather in a wind storm.

"To think what he's done just because he hated me. It makes me sick. In the end, I helped him, Noble. Me. I did everything in my power to keep secrets hidden. I thought I was protecting myself, my company, and my brother."

"What are you going to do?" he asked.

"Nothing."

"Coffin's memoirs reveal dirt on practically every person in this town. Coffin was insane, but he was as smart as they come. Cash mentioned Mary Lassiter might have had a diary, too. But I haven't found anything of the sort."

"Coffin was as observant as a buzzard scoping out his next meal," Dixie said. "Mary Lassiter had no diary. She would have told me. She would have shown it to me to make sure I approved. She was that kind. Believe me. She worshipped the ground I walked on.

But Coffin! I've read this piece of garbage from cover to cover. It turns my stomach. It reads like a gritty piece of fiction scraped from the sewer pipes. I will never be able to look at some of our town's people the same again."

"He certainly had Leland under his finger," said Noble.

"You and I know that, and a few of the others who were around back then, I'm sure. But Leland was too young. Remember that passage where Coffin writes about Mary Lassiter. He seems really disgusted with her, how she just showed up back then with a little boy in tow."

"It was odd," Noble said. "She never said who Leland's father was. Maybe, she didn't know. But Clifford was sweet on Mary back then."

"Don't I know it," said Dixie. "Clifford got Mary Lassiter on at the company. He had some clout back then."

"Maybe, Coffin had some kind of grudge against Clifford. Who knows? When all is said and done, Coffin did all these things to hurt you, Dixie."

"He wanted me to marry him, for chrissakes! I didn't have time for that romance stuff," said Dixie. "He wanted me to settle down. I had a company to run!"

"Yes, you did. But that didn't make any difference to Coffin."

"But I told him," said Dixie. "I never led him on. I was honest with him as I could be."

"But according to this," Noble said, holding up the papers in front of Dixie, "It drove him crazy."

"Don't blame this on me."

"I'm not blaming anyone. Coffin was a psychopath."

Noble looked down at the crackling fire.

"By the way," said Noble, "I never did find those pictures from the carnival photo booth you said were taped to the back of your desk drawer. I got ambushed before I had a chance to search for them. What the hell are they, anyway?"

"Forget about them," said Dixie. "They're not going anywhere. Besides, until things die down, it won't be safe to be seen rummaging about the place too much."

Noble held the papers in his beefy hands.

"Well," he said, "what do you want done with this?"

"Burn it," she said.

"Are you sure, Dixie? We could blackmail half the county with this thing."

"And sell our souls to the Devil in the process. What if it fell into the wrong hands? This thing is as dangerous as a loaded pistol. The barrel would be pointed right back at us."

"You got a point."

Noble tossed the papers into the flames. Together, they stood and watched the fire burn the pages to blackened ash.