Nagging Doubts

By Joanna Carroll

For investigative journalist Meg Witt, her stay in the east Texas town of El Dorado begins with the story of an underground railroad set in place to rescue the women and children from the clutches of the Mormon Fundamentalist men at The Yearning for Zion Ranch. She’s found one of the do-gooders and has been granted an interview by what she expects will be a compassionate soul, but instead finds a shrewish woman with the warmth of an ice cube tray. When within a few weeks of the meeting the interviewee turns up dead in the middle of Texas’ desolate landscape Meg finds herself befriending the dead woman’s husband to help him come to terms with her suicide.

But it wasn’t suicide! So, who killed Roxanne Harpy, the shrewish school administrator? When Meg goes to where Roxanne’s body was found her own life is at risk as the killer seeks closure to the crime.

Traveling with her husband and young son affords investigative journalist, Meg Witt, many opportunities to have some pretty interesting adventures. Meg is a strong, slightly sarcastic, thirty-something woman, who doesn't always use the most standard practices to solve mysteries, but she’s smart and savvy enough to get the job done as she juggles a husband, a son and a career.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Joanna Carroll
• Release date: Sep 13, 2012
• ISBN: 9781301088010

Joanna Carroll

Joanna lives in an Arizona desert home that she and her husband built....well, mostly he built it. She has two sons, two daughters-by-love and three grandchildren. As a corporate trainer and training executive, she has traveled all over the world and met so many wonderful people. The sights, sounds and warm memories cataloged for future stories! Please stop by Joanna's blog located at readjoannacarroll.wordpress.com/. You'll get recipes of the yummy dishes featured and by clicking "Follow" you'll get notice of all new releases. Other interests include helping those in business, non-profits, clubs and organizations succeed by improving their soft (essential) skills and serving as Your Business Skills Coach. Her blog yourbizskillscoach.wordpress.com/ has lots of info, ideas and a forum for sharing your business experiences. Joanna also loves to share tips and techniques used to build their beautiful custom dream home in the desert. The blog custombuiltbyyou.wordpress.com/ has great stories and pictures to help you replicate these customizable ideas! Thanks so much for visiting! Enjoy Meg's adventures!

Book preview

Nagging Doubts

by

Joanna Carroll

Nagging Doubts

Joanna Carroll

Version 1.0

Copyright © 2012 JoAnn Simpson

Smashwords Edition

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ISBN: 978-1-301-08801-0

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Chapter 1

She opened the front door in response to the insistent ringing of the doorbell to find a thirty-something guy with an acne-scarred face, slicked down hair, and too-long sideburns standing at her door. He looked like an Elvis wanna-be who’d already lived a hard life.

Hello, ma’am, how are ya today?

The rapid blinking of her eyes was the only movement detected on an otherwise expressionless face. I can’t believe I actually answered the door without even looking to see who was there. Have the past months of strange phone calls, gifts left on my car and on my desk at work taught me nothing. Yes, apparently underscored just how stupid I can be. No, it can’t be that I’m stupid. More like he’s crafty and he tricked me. I don’t make mistakes like that. Busy actually. I’m sorry, I was expecting someone else.

He opened the screen door and shoved a brochure for a vacuum cleaner into her hand in one fell swoop. He had obviously done this before. It’s practically free.

Without even looking at the brochure she shoved it back at him. No thanks, really, she said while attempting to pull the screen door closed.

I jest need a second of your time, he said as he quickly slipped his foot next to the jam, expertly blocking her attempt to shut the screen door. Ya see I’m workin’ my way through a vocational program after havin’ a kinda rough start in life. Look I’ve got me a permit issued by the city. And here’s my papers from the El Dorado Placement Center. He yanked at the pouch that hung from a lanyard around his neck so she could see it with his left hand while offering the vacuum cleaner brochure to her again with his right hand.

Listen, I really hate to be rude, she said as she started closing the primary door, but I really am terribly busy and behind schedule. I don’t want or need a new vacuum cleaner. His aggressive behavior was beginning to scare her. She wasn’t good at confrontation.

Look, lady, he sneered, I ain’t askin’ for nothin’ more than a few minutes of your friggin’ precious time.

I’m sorry. I’ve tried to politely tell you that I’m not interested. Now I’ll be firmer, she said while decisively closing and locking the door in one seamless motion. She stood with her back pressed against the door collecting her breath. The crash of something against her back and the sound of splintering wood caused her to jump about a foot off the ground while propelling forward. She peeked around the curtains through the window next to the door and saw the scary-looking man gesturing at the door and cursing loudly before stomping off down the street. When she was sure he was gone, she opened the door to find the gray squirrel lawn ornament, which had previously sat next to the rose bush, shattered all over the front porch, the screen tore and a huge dent in the front door.

Well, I never, she muttered to herself. I’m going to call Sheriff Kincade. Someone is going to pay for this damage.

Just as she went to pick up the phone to call Sheriff Rowley Kincade, the phone rang in her hand shattering what was left of her nerves. Yes, she said issuing her typical icy greeting.

It’s over, said Laura Kerr, the human resources specialist at the school district office. She sounded frazzled.

How did it go?

It’s hard to say.

Well, did she go ballistic like we thought?

No, quite the contrary. She sat calmly as I read the list of items against her. I told her that we no longer needed her services and since her position was sensitive in nature there would be no warning, she was being dismissed, effective immediately.

And?

And, that’s it. I told her that she could make arrangements to pick up her personal items next week. She said she had no personal items. She had everything she needed with her already.

How is that possible? She couldn’t have known that she would be fired today. How could she already have her desk cleared out?

I don’t know, but she did. After I walked her out, I went to her office and it was as sterile as an operating room. Nothing but the school’s stapler, pencil cup, tape dispenser and other assorted office paraphernalia.

And her demeanor remained calm the whole time?

It was as if I was explaining a medical reimbursement policy. Not a blink, not a tear. Nothing.

Well, that won’t be the last of it, that’s for sure.

What do you mean?

Oh, there’ll be something. I don’t know what, but she’s not likely to go quietly. She’ll petition the school board. She’ll get her following of loyal supporters to write letters. There’ll be something, mark my words. Listen, I have to go. I’ll call you later. There’s someone at my door.

Her hands were still shaking as she hung up the phone. She’s the one who’s probably been stalking me. She was trying to get my job, but I got rid of her before she could do any damage. She was probably the one who started the ugly rumor about me having a child out of wedlock. Thankfully, my good works in the church helped squash that before it got any steam going. She was expecting that reporter, but the day was full of surprises. The doorbell rang for the second time before she had a chance to wrench it open.

Hi. Remember us? Veronica and Mitch, the large black woman said as she stuck out her hand.

Roxanne had a momentary brain glitch as she searched her memory bank for the two faces that stood before her.

From church, remember? Your husband was kind enough to offer the hospitality of your home.

Oh, of course, where are my manners. Please come in. Dan had a heart as big as the Texas-sized state they lived in and a brain half the size of an armadillo’s. He found out that Veronica and Mitch were living in their conversion van in the church’s parking lot since the latest hurricane roared through the South. She was an electrician and he was a plumber by trade. They had fled their soggy surroundings like so many others and didn’t have a place to live or jobs yet. So naturally, Dan opened up their home to perfect strangers. The only thing he knew about them were they were from the same denominational church in Louisiana….not exactly what Roxanne would consider a glowing recommendation. If they even went to church. If they even lived in Louisiana. They could just be preying on the goodness of kind-hearted people.

They both moved towards cleaning up the mess of the lawn squirrel before entering the house. What happened here?

Neighbor kids getting into mischief, I guess. Must’ve done it on their way home from school, Roxanne offered. Now you just leave that for now. I’ll get that in a bit.

They tried as hard as they could to step over the mess, but it had shattered into a million pieces. Their shoes crunched the bits and pieces as they crossed the threshold into the living room.

This is so kind. I just can’t believe that you and your husband would reach out a hand to us.

You are our brother and sister in the Lord. That’s what Jesus would do, now isn’t it?

Of course, we all say we’re livin’ our lives like Jesus would have us, but most of us don’t really follow through in our actions. But you two, my, my, my you’re just the picture of Christian charity.

And hopefully, you won’t rob us blind and kill us in our sleep. She wasn’t prejudice, she distrusted everyone equally. Here let me show you the room you’ll be staying in. She led them through the house and out the back door. The room, which was a bedroom/bathroom combination above the garage, was built as a concession. The boys wanted to go to college and Roxanne and Dan wanted them to go too, but The University of Texas at San Antonio was 164 miles away and Angelo State University was a 38 mile, one-way commute. Dan and Roxanne knew they’d have trouble scrapping together tuition let alone money for living in the dorms or worse yet in some fancy apartment. The boys wanted their own space, which is why they wanted to go to UT at San Antonio. This studio space was the closest they could come to making all parties reasonably happy, a college education at Angelo State and an apartment to boot.

But the boys, who were three years apart, had both graduated college already. Now Dan felt that the Lord wanted them to use this room for something constructive. Roxanne’s idea was a sewing room. It wasn’t exactly what Dan thought the Lord had in mind.

Well, Mitch said uttering his first word as he took in the room, this is real nice. We won’t be here that long, you know. We don’t want to impose any longer than it takes to find us jobs and a place to live.

Good luck, she thought. There were only a shade more than 2000 people in the entire town and 3000 in all of Schleicher County. It wasn’t like El Dorado was a booming metropolis. The town already had Hank Parrow, the handyman extraordinaire, and there was barely enough business to keep him in beer and cigarettes. How long are we going to be stuck with these two before they either figured out for themselves that this wasn’t paradise or before we’re forced to physically give them the heave-ho?

Roxanne smiled. At least she hoped that’s what her face was doing. Smiling wasn’t a thing she had a lot of practice doing. Often her facial muscles would contort into a grotesque appearance that looked like she had just smelled something rotten. I’ll let you get settled. And she fled down the stairs as fast as her bird-like feet would carry her. Her head bobbing forward and back with each step gave her the appearance of a chicken pecking at the ground for bugs. She couldn’t wait to escape. Her job at the school district didn’t require a lot of human contact. Technically she was the office administrator, responsible for running practically everything, but she managed to do her job largely behind a closed door. People were just not her forte.

As she came down the steps from the garage apartment, she noticed another visitor parking out in front of her house….maybe this would be the reporter. This was proving to be far more stressful day than the one she had ducked her responsibility on. She and Laura Kerr, the HR specialist, had expected the drama queen, Corrine Starr, to let go with some real theatrics when they fired her….but according to Laura it was all rather anti-climatic. She intercepted the visitor half way up the driveway that ran along side the house.

Can I help you?

Yes, hi, my name is Meg Witt. If you’re Roxanne Harpy, I believe we have an appointment, she said as she stuck her hand out in greeting.

Yes, of course, Roxanne said as she limply offered the tips of her fingers. How about if we sit in the backyard? Can I get you something to drink?

The backyard would be fine. And I’d really appreciate a glass of cold water.

Roxanne sized her up without moving so much as an eyelash. Idiot! What a moron this woman is. Doesn’t she know that offering something to drink is just a polite gesture? She wasn’t supposed to really take me up on it. Yes, of course, it is rather warm today. I could use something to drink too. I’ll be back in just a minute. Are you sure you wouldn’t like some sweet tea or lemonade?

Water’s just fine, thanks.

Roxanne’s faced contorted into that awful look again. It didn’t help that her eyes were set too close together, she basically had no lips and her graying hair stuck up from her head like a box of toothpicks had been spilled and scattered on her skull. Her only adornment was her glasses, which framed lifeless, watery gray-green eyes.

Meg Witt, an investigative journalist, was living temporarily in the little town of El Dorado, Texas, while her husband, Mark, was finishing the construction of a small wing on the local medical center. Mark, an architect/project manager, worked from their Arizona home during the course of the projects he managed, but for the first few months and the last few months, he liked to be on site for at least several weeks and sometimes up to a couple of months. Meg and their nine-year-old son Josh usually accompanied him. Meg filled her days by homeschooling Josh and picking up side work in either a journalistic or a marketing endeavor.

This visit was for a future journalistic undertaking. A large Mormon sect had recently moved from the twin towns in Colorado City, Arizona, and Hildale, Utah, to the outskirts of El Dorado, Texas. Her source had said that this woman, Roxanne Harpy, was part of an underground railroad organized to free the child brides from a life of sexual exploitation. Apparently they hadn’t had any luck penetrating the compound yet, but the organization was in place in anticipation for the coming event.

Meg thought it funny that they had organized this railroad, not that it wasn’t a humanitarian gesture. It’s just that in her research she found that El Dorado had come into existence by way of a grant made by the state of Texas to the Houston East and West Texas Railway Company in 1878, but the railroad laid no track there. Then about thirty-five years later once again El Dorado thought that a rail line would be extended from San Angelo, but the railroad company went into receivership. They finally got their railroad in 1930, but by the mid-70s the highway system was so developed that their dependence on the rail system fell away. In short order, the then current owners of the line, the Atchison, Topeka and Santa Fe Railroad abandoned its track. Now it seemed they’d be once again getting their railroad, sort of.

Meg had told Mark that there probably wasn’t enough information to do a story just yet, but why not take advantage of being in the right place even if it was the wrong time. At least she could get some background information. Pulitzer-prize winning articles, which Meg had already authored, were not written overnight. Most were a culmination of months or years worth of investigation, research, and patience. She had done some pre-legwork in anticipation of coming here by contacting the local paper. The gentleman she spoke to said that they had been getting inquiries about their new residents from as far away as Russia. She wasn’t the only one to smell a story in the making. She just happened to be the one who was here. The other journalists, who did make the trek to El Dorado, wouldn’t have the luxury of living amongst those in town. They would have to get as much local flavor as they could cram into the day or two their paper would foot the bill. She, on the other hand, would get to know people beyond the superficial howdy.

Here we go, Roxanne said as she returned with two tall glasses of water. No ice, no lemon, just water.

Meg took a long drink and drained nearly half the glass in one gulp. Gosh, I’m sorry that wasn’t very lady-like, but like I said I was thirsty.

The rusted aluminum chair creaked under her bird-like weight as she sat down next to Meg. Yes, I guess you were. Now how can I help you? In other words, let’s cut the chit-chat and get down to business.

Okay, no small talk, no problem. I understand you and your family are in place as part of an underground railroad to free the child brides from the clutches of your new neighbors.

Roxanne just stared at her without responding.

I can assure you that I have no intention of writing an article now. I’m just getting background information. That way when you do put things into motion I’ll have the backdrop in place.

Still nothing. Meg was beginning to think her host had slipped into a coma or died with her eyes open. As she talked she was trying to observe if Roxanne seemed to be breathing. Maybe a bit on the dramatic side, but she truly had never met anyone who could be so totally emotionless….not a tic, no eye movement, not even a blink.

In fact, even when I do write the article I would never think of revealing your name or giving enough detail for anyone to trace it back to you. I wouldn’t want to do anything to jeopardize such a humanitarian gesture.

What was that? It was an almost an imperceptible expression. The closest Meg could come to describing it was a flicker of scorn.

Roxanne just looked at Meg and tried to figure out just what her agenda was. She had asked Meg quite a few probing questions before she even agreed to meet her. She wanted to make sure that Meg Witt was who she said she was. No sense being too trusting….that was never a good idea. Roxanne had to work hard to hold back a chuckle…. humanitarian gesture… what a load of crap. Again she couldn’t believe what an idiot this woman was. Meg Witt. Her name should be Meg DimWitt Well, to be fair this altruistic persona that Meg had pinned on her was a natural conclusion. The truth was that Ms. DimWitt should be interviewing Dan. Personally, Roxanne thought it was a dumb idea. She didn’t like the idea of getting involved in other people’s business. It just never turned out well. Better to distance yourself from people than to get close enough to have the stench of their problems get on you.

How do I know that you won’t print anything specific?

I don’t know what more I can do than to give you my word. There is a journalistic code of ethics. We don’t reveal our confidential sources.

Would you go to jail to protect me? Roxanne asked as her eyes got even beadier.

In a heartbeat.

Have you ever gone to jail to protect a source before?

You bet. Although, it was hardly a terrible experience. They didn’t call the Boulder County Jail the Boulder Hilton for nothing….it had comfortable beds with real mattresses and televisions. It was the other side of the spectrum from Sheriff Joe’s Tent City in Phoenix.

So, what do you want to know? I’m not saying that it’s true or not. I’m just asking in general, you understand.

Of course, Meg said as she put her glass down on the small rusted table between them. I was just wondering; hypothetically mind you, how this whole underground railroad might work.

More emotionless staring. We’d put them up here for a few days until arrangements could be made to transport them out of the area. Hypothetically, mind you.

I see. Meg would’ve loved to get her pen and pad of paper out, but didn’t want to freak out Roxanne Harpy. It’s legal in Texas to secretly tape record a conversation as long as it wasn’t done for a criminal or perverse purpose, but her tiny tape recorder was sitting on the front seat of her car with dead batteries. How did you get involved in such a compassionate cause?

Oh brother, another one of these bleeding heart do-gooders. Of course, I should just tell her that this was mostly Dan’s idea and that a sorority sister sealed the deal by calling in a favor. Just because Charlene Thompson had gotten us theater tickets the last time we were in Dallas, she thought she owned my soul. But if I tell her it’s mostly Dan’s idea, she’ll be back, and I’d really like to avoid her coming back, if possible.

Truth of the matter was that the newly transplanted neighbors on the fringes of town owned a 1,700-acre, self-sustaining spread. Even neighbors who had a common fence rarely laid eyes on any of them. I only agreed to the whole ridiculous scheme because I figured that this underground railroad wouldn’t actually be chugging into my station. But then I certainly can’t share my realistic viewpoint with this naive, soft-headed sympathizer. So, I’ll stick to the truth as much as possible. Yes, that’s a wonderful plan. Tell her as much as I truthfully can without embellishing.

We’re very active in our church. Truth. There are so many people who need a Christian hand of kindness extended to them. Truth. I’d better stop there or I’ll surely say something that’ll would come back to bite me.

Would you mind if I see the room that the girls will stay in?

The room?

Yes, you said that you would put them up here for a few days until transportation out of the area could be arranged. I was wondering if I could see the room they’d be using. You know, get a feel for it so I can help the readers see it through my eyes.

I’m afraid that won’t be possible.

I won’t take any pictures. I don’t want to invade your privacy.

It’s being used.

You mean, Meg asked wide-eyed, you have already liberated some of the girls?

Oh brother, Roxanne closed her eyes in what she hoped was a thoughtful pose. It’s not polite to roll one’s eyes at someone even if that someone, Ms. DimWitt, in this case is so unbelievably stupid. No point having one’s face be a billboard of emotions like my interrogator. No, it’s being used by some other folks we’re helping out.

Color me shocked! Meg thought. I’m usually a pretty good people reader, but this woman is a total contradiction. She certainly doesn’t seem to have a compassionate bone in her body. She looks uncomfortable being around people. Well, maybe not all people. Maybe just me. But honestly, I just can’t see her actually lending a hand. But apparently I’ve misjudged Roxanne Harpy. Maybe there is a story here after all. There are any number of publications that look for the Good Samaritan stories.

You know, I said that I wasn’t prepared to do a story yet, but I might have spoken too soon. While I would still protect your privacy and this humanitarian gesture, I would like to do an article about you, personally.

No response.

There are so many who truly need help and everyone is always expecting some government agency or at the very least ‘someone else’ to step in. Not many people actually marry their words and their actions. I just think that you would be an inspiration to so many.

While she may have sat stone faced on the outside, inside she was rolling with laughter. Oh, I don’t think so. No, I don’t think so at all. That would be all I’d need. Let Dan’s stupid idea of hospitality get out and we’d have every worthless creature in the state looking for a handout. It’s hardly God’s work if you are receiving payment.

Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to imply that I would be able to pay you anything.

The admiration of others was the payment I was speaking of. The Lord says you are supposed to give with your right hand and your left hand shouldn’t know it is happening. If you give to get then you are out of alignment with the Good Book.

Meg’s mouth hung open just a bit. I guess, Meg thought, I’m stuck in some sort of stereotypical mind-set. If she were a bubbly, happy sort, I wouldn’t be so floored by the words she spoke. I’m just a bit shocked to hear such words of compassion coming out of the mouth of this stone statue. My husband is working on finishing up the wing for the Medical Center. We should be here for at least the next six to eight weeks. Do you think the room might be vacant any time over during that time period? I mean, would it be possible to come back at a later date?

Yes, of course, I’ll call you as soon as it’s vacant. Hell freezing over, pigs flying and calling Ms. DimWitt back for another go around were all about as likely.

Thank you. Here’s my card. My cell phone number is on it and I’ve written down our local address on the back. I’ve taken up enough of your time. I should be going. Meg let out a little sigh. Not really the interview that I’d expected. Most people, while a little shy, just needed a little prompting for the promise of their fifteen minutes of fame.

Roxanne accompanied Meg toward the street. Her intention was to part company at the place in the driveway where she had intercepted her upon arrival. It wasn’t that it was complicated to get from the backyard to the street; it’s just that it seemed like the right thing to do. And if Roxanne wasn’t anything else, she was all about doing what looked good to others.

As they approached the front edge of the house, Meg looked over to the porch and could see through the railing very clearly the debris of the broken plaster squirrel strewn all over like a rock slide in the Arizona mountains during monsoon season. Oh, my goodness, Meg said. What happened here?

It’s nothing. I don’t want this woman involved in my life or my business. Just go away now, please.

Well, it certainly looks like something. Let me help you clean it up. Meg moved toward the porch.

Roxanne torn between wanting to get rid of Ms. DimWitt in short order and avoiding confrontation…..acquiesced to the lesser of two evils. Why aren’t you sweet? I’ll go in and grab the broom and dust pan. We’ll have this cleaned up in short order.

While Roxanne went in, Meg started picking up the larger pieces that were closest to the door. Mitch came around the corner of the house just as the door closed on Roxanne.

Hello there, he said.

Hello to you.

I’ll get that. I wanted to do it when we first got here but Miz Roxanne wouldn’t hear of it. I figured I’d sneak out here and do it before she could shoo me away.

That’s nice. I’m Meg Witt, by the way. She stuck her hand out in greeting.

His massive hand seemed to envelope hers all the way up to her elbow. Mitch Small. Me and my wife jest moved into the room above the garage. It’s jest in passin’ mind you, ‘til we get settled in.

Ah, the mysterious guests. We’re new to town too. But we’re in El Dorado just temporarily, Meg offered.

Roxanne came back out with broom, dustpan and a few paper grocery sacks. Hail, hail the gang’s all here. The less I talk, the quicker this will get done, the sooner they’ll both leave and I’ll get a little bit of piece and quiet. Her silence permeated the group. Everyone worked quickly and silently lost in their thoughts.

Thanks so much. You’re both so kind to help clean this up. I won’t keep either one of you any longer.

Meg eyed Roxanne thoughtfully. Well, if I know my PC-speak, that’s politically correct for get the heck out of here and leave me alone. Maybe, I’ve got this woman pegged right after all. Well thanks again for the interview. I look forward to another visit in the future. Meg said over her shoulder as she walked to her car.

Hey there, Roxanne. The mailman handed her the mail and a small package rather than sticking it all into the mailbox.

Thanks Billy.

Meg walked to her car and got in during the mail exchange. She scooped up the dead tape recorder from the seat and slipped it into her purse so she didn’t forget that it needed new batteries. Then she went on the quest for her keys. They seemed to have a mind of their own and loved to play hide and seek, wiggling into the absolute recesses of her bag. She looked up in time to see Roxanne’s expression, a true expression of terror, as she stared into the small opened box. Roxanne almost looked like a caricature of herself. Her now pasty white complexion made her eyes seemingly beadier, her thin lips practically disappeared and her bird-like frame trembled from head to toe. Meg wondered what could possibly illicit such a response from this monument to emotionlessness.

Chapter 2

Hi honey. How was your day? He asked as he kissed her distractedly on the cheek. He was pretty sure that opening the evening’s paper to the sports section was going to be far more interesting. She could prattle on and on and he would simply interject a couple of uh-huh’s, really’s and you don’t say’s.

Fine, just fine, she answered sarcastically.

That’s good dear. Alright!, the Astros won again! That was a streak of sorts, three in a row. Of course, preseason at Osceola County Stadium in Kissimmee, Florida, was hardly telling, but who knows they could go all the way this year.

Roxanne slammed the plates down on the table causing the silverware to jump up and scatter from their previously held congruent arrangement.

Undisturbed, Dan read the article about the dedication of the players in pre-season. The article went on to explain that their early pre-season victories could be traced back to several of the Houston Astros’ key players, who decided to get an early jump on preseason by working out daily,