Field of Graves(58)

Sam picked up the phone again and placed a call to Lincoln. The database had been his idea and was still his baby. He picked up on the first ring.

“Hey, Lincoln. How’s it shakin’ over there?”

“Shaking and baking, sister. Taylor is heading your way. I’m getting ready to go home myself, get a couple of hours’ sleep.”

“Good, you guys need a break. I wasn’t calling about Taylor. I just got a call from my ’gator, Tim. Looks like they may have pulled a working girl out of Old Hickory. We’ll send over the information to see if you can lay out a positive ID.”

Sam could hear him clicking away on his keyboard in the background and smiled; he was already loading the database. “Any chance you have a name? I have an MP report on a lost soul from Magdalene House.”

“Actually, she had an ID card on her, but who knows if it’s really hers.” She looked at her notes. “Tim said the name on the card is Tammy Boxer. Ring any bells?”

“Yes, damn it. That’s the name they gave me last night. Hadn’t seen her in a week, said she missed a couple of med checks. This is really going to make their day.”

Sam gave a big sigh. The Magdalene House was one of Nashville’s jewels. A minister at Vanderbilt’s St. Augustine’s Church had developed the program. It was designed to get girls off the street, cleaned up, give them some education and skills, and help them back out into the real world. It was a huge success, and Sam remembered reading that they were opening a second house because the demand had grown so large.

“Will you give them a call and let them know we may have found her? If they can send someone over this afternoon to ID her, we’ll try to get things moving over here.”

“Yeah, I’ll do it. Thanks, Sam, that’s one less thing I need to worry about.”

Sam wished him well, told him to get some sleep, and hung up. As she did, she heard Taylor in the hall talking with Kris, their front desk attendant. She walked out of the office and nearly collided with her best friend in the hall.

Sam clucked at Taylor disapprovingly, a mother hen unhappy with one of her brood.

“T, you look absolutely awful. You didn’t go home last night?”

Taylor did, in fact, look awful. On cue, she sneezed and gave Sam a sheepish grin.

“Naw, I didn’t. Thought I’d clean up over here once we’re done. Do you have any sinus medicine? I’m out. I think my allergies are getting to me.”

“Your allergies, my ass. You have a sinus infection. Why do you always pretend you’re not sick when you are?” Sam headed back into her office and opened a cabinet by the door. She pulled out a box of Advil Cold & Sinus and gave it to Taylor. Like most longtime Nashvillians, she always had some on hand. It was a bizarre phenomenon that so many people in the city suffered from some kind of sinus problems throughout the year. The joke was if you didn’t have allergies before you moved to Nashville, you would within a year.

Taylor broke two pills out of their blister pack and offered the box back to Sam, who shook her head.

“Keep it. You’re going to need it worse than me. Do you have the radiographs?”

Taylor held up a large manila envelope and sneezed again. Sam shook her head, handed her a tissue, and said, “Follow me.”





48



They went through the biovestibule and started the changing process that would turn them into medical butterflies.

“I talked to Lincoln a little bit ago. Looks like we have the body of his missing Magdalene woman.”

“You’re kidding,” Taylor replied, arms lost in a smock. “Where’d she turn up?”

“Couple of fishermen pulled a body out of Old Hickory this morning. Her ID card had the name Tammy Boxer on it, and Lincoln said that’s the name he was given on the report.”

Taylor shook her head. “Another body. It never ends. Sam, what’s happening to our city?”

“Let me cheer you up. I heard a great one the other day. This chick suspects her husband is cheating on her. One day she calls home and a strange woman answers. She asks who it is. The woman on the other end of the phone says, ‘This is the maid.’ The woman’s confused. ‘But we don’t have a maid,’ she says. The maid tells her the man of the house hired her that morning. ‘Well, I’m his wife,’ she says. ‘Is my husband there?’ The maid gets quiet for a minute. ‘He’s upstairs in the bedroom with a woman I assumed was his wife.’

“The wife is livid, gasping for air. She says to the maid, ‘Listen, would you like to make $50,000?’ The maid asks what she would have to do. The wife tells her to go to the top desk drawer, get out the gun, and shoot him and the woman he’s with. The maid puts the phone down. The wife hears footsteps, gunshots, and then more footsteps. The maid picks the phone back up. ‘So what do I do with the bodies?’ The wife tells her to take them outside and dump them in the pool. ‘But ma’am, there’s no pool here.’ There’s a long pause. ‘Uhhh, is this 494-2873?’”

Taylor guffawed and Sam grinned, pleased with her cleverness.

“Jeez, Sam, that was awful. You’re awfully chipper this morning. You make up with Simon last night?”

“Taylor, how come anytime I’m in a good mood, you automatically assume I got laid?”