Thrown Away/Twisted Roots

Chapter 11

Chapter 11





Brian arrived in Austin and checked into his hotel located a few miles from the University of Texas. After a quick shower, he headed to the admissions office. There had to be some way to get information on Sawyer and Ashley while they lived and went to school.


He entered the admissions office and asked to talk to someone. He was directed to sit and wait in the lobby.


A lone man, looking to be in his late twenties or early thirties sat in the only comfortable looking chair and stared at a newspaper. Brian found his seat on the couch and opened his laptop. He’d made a game of guessing people’s occupations. The man slat slouched in his chair but had long legs. Maybe five foot ten or eleven. Brian thought. The man wore faded jeans, not the store bought faded, but the much washed faded. A pullover shirt from a sale rack, the odd color of not quite melon and not quite coral must have been the thumbs down to most people. His loafers were worn almost through at the soles and no socks. Whatever he did it didn’t leave much for clothes.


He wasn’t a salesman. No sample case. A thin messenger bag lay almost folded in half at his feet. No computer or laptop. Maybe a student or professor. The uncombed hair and stubbled chin might account for late night studying. He looked at his own screen and typed in the school’s address.


He began to look for records, but the requirement of login and authorization code was more than the trouble he wanted to go through. A couple of kids checked in and sat across from the two men and began kissing. The kissing began to get more passionate and then went on to a show.


The man across from him openly watched, which seemed to fuel the kids’ actions.


Brain cleared his throat and when that didn’t cause them to stop he spoke loud and firm. “Knock it off you two. I’ll dump ice water on you.”


The girl glared at him, her lip almost raised in a snarl. The boy just grinned at him. After the girl seemed to want to defy Brian’s order, the kid stood and pulled her to her feet. “Let’s go.” The girl protested and moved in a way to try to interest her audience.


“Kids these days have no shame.” The man across from him spoke after the two left the building.


Brian gave a brief nod as he typed into his computer.


“Mr. Jacobi?” A woman’s voice called out.


Brian closed the laptop and stood. The woman pointed toward the cubes to his right, “Mrs. Anderson will see you.”


The first few cubes were empty. The next one seemed to have a life of its own.


Pictures, a Hawaiian lei, assorted stress toys lined a narrow shelf on one side of the cube. Behind the woman a credenza with a printer on the shelf completes the nest.


Brian sat across from a woman of undetermined age, but much older than himself. Her thinning grey hair stood spiked from her head. The make-up was applied with a broad hand and her eyebrows looked to have a permanent surprise.


“What can I do for you?” Her bored tone was the impression he’d bothered her.


Not like he’d been sitting there for thirty minutes waiting while she filed her nails or read her emails.


‘I’m looking to find any classes these two people might have taken while they attended here. Twenty-eight years ago.” He added.


“Twenty-eight years ago? What happened to them? Did they die?” Mrs. Anderson raised her half-moon reading glasses from their resting place on her ample chest and placed them on her nose.


“Not that I’m aware of.”


She peered at the two pictures. One he’d been given by Sawyer’s parents and one that had been in the file the Boyton’s gave him.”What is it that you are looking to find?” Her glance moved to his P.I. identification card, he held out to her.


“Classes they might have attended together and clubs they may have joined. Would there be a record if they lived on campus or off? I’d like to find out who their friends were.”


“I can tell you this. Unless you have a court order or subpoena, I can’t show you anything in their records.” She shook her head and pushed the pictures back across the table.


Brian scrutinized the woman. Was she being honest, or did she know who one of pictured people? “If the parents paid for their schooling, could they request this information?”


“No, they were probably over eighteen so even if their parents pay, they have no right to know their classes, the grades or if they did or didn’t attend.” This also was delivered in a monotone voice. She’d said this same information many times before.


Brian thought for a moment and tried another tactic. “If the parents of a child have power of attorney over the child. Could they request a copy of the record if they wanted to discover if anything the child might have been exposed to may have contributed to his -” Brian paused for a few seconds then continued, leaning a little closer to the desk. “-Incapacitation? I wouldn’t want to accuse the school of wrongdoing but that might come into play. If you get my drift.” He didn’t move from his position hoping he’d given the woman a story that might change her mind.


She shook her head a little, “I can’t give you a yes or no answer about that. You’d have to apply to the head of Administration. What exactly are you looking for?” Her expression gave Brian a clue she was more than curious. She was a gossip”


Brian pursed his lips, then gave a small feigned sigh. “These students were friends of my client’s daughter.” his brain worked to fill in a plausible storyline. “My client thinks they may have been a small time thieves. I don’t believe Ashley and Sawyer were all that bad. They may not have even knew this girl or that she had stolen property. Her parents found a box with an assortment of jewelry in it. They’d like to return it to the rightful owners. You can see their problem, they don’t want to take it to the police.These are the only people who may have been her friend and I need to talk to them about the stolen stuff.”


Mrs. Anderson plucked the glasses from her nose and let them drop, hanging from the decorative chain, on her chest. “Sir, even you know the statute of limitations is long expired. It wouldn’t matter.”


“That’s true. But the family is, well, let’s say connected. They don’t want anything sordid leaked to the press about their daughter’s possible involvement in crime.” He let that thought pass and continued after a moment. “What if she didn’t actually have a part in the crime? Then there are others that may be involved. I just need to connect the dots. Who did Sawyer and Ashley hang out with? Simple. If my client’s daughter isn’t one of them then I move on.”


“I may be able to help you or at least get you started. What is the name of the people couple who may have been friends with her?”


Brian told her and held his breath as long as he could while she tapped on the keyboard. The sound of a printer warming fill the silence and Mrs. Anderson turned to the credenza behind her and pulled a sheet of paper from the holder. She glanced at it and passed it across to Brian. “Here are a list of any clubs the two signed up for. It doesn’t mean they actually joined only that they applied for a membership. Not much to go on.”


“Thank you. It gives me a good start.” Brian stood.


“You can use the the computer over there and cross reference the names to possible pictures of class activities or clubs they may have all been involved in.” She shrugged. “Good luck.”


Brian moved across the room, past the man still sitting in the lobby to a bank of computer cubbys.


“Mr. Henry. Are you still loitering in the lobby? Do I have to call security and have you removed?” The woman called out.


“I’m not bothering anyone. I just want to meet with the Dean Simmons. I’ve requested an appointment but he’s ignoring me.”


“I should say so. You and your rag mag aren’t wanted here. There is no story about the Dean and you aren’t going to trick him into admitting to something that didn’t happen 15 years ago.”


The man didn’t get fup from his seat. He turned his head a raised his voice. “Ms Anderson. You and I both know Dean Simmons has been reprimanded for his behavior. It’s also been noted he or the school paid off the girls to keep all this quiet. Now that he’s aiming for the President’s position when he retires next year, I think the people have a right to know who will be in charge of their darling daughters.”


A loud snort came from the cube. “You aren’t getting to see the Dean. You might as well leave.”


“I’m not leaving until someone answers my questions.” Henry went back to reading his paper.


Brian grimaced a little. He’d been right in his assessment of the young man. He was a reporter. He either worked for a magazine or was a freelance writer. Either way Brian wanted nothing to do with him.


“I don’t see what the problem is.” Henry spoke aloud seeming to anyone who’d listen. “All I want to ask is if the Dean will deny or confirm he got a student pregnant and paid for an abortion.”


Brian didn’t let his natural curiosity interfere with his job. He pressed on writing down anyone who was in a club or had a picture with Sawyer or Ashley.


“I know it was a long time ago, but who’s to say he hasn’t been doing this since? Right?”


Brian pretended he thought the man was talking to someone else and didn’t answer.


“Did the girl or her family confirm the story?” Brian kicked himself for responding.


“You’ve heard about this story? You are reporter?” Henry stood and moved to the chair at the station next to Brian.


Brian dropped his head. Mentally he called himself all kind of names for responding to the guy.


“No. Not interested.” That was a lie since he’d just asked a question.


Henry leaned over to see the screen in front of Brian, before he could turn it away. “You help me and I’ll help you. You a detective or cop?”


“No.” Brian looked at the screen for any name corresponding to Ashley or Sawyer.


“Who are these kids? Are they missing? Dead?” The curiosity turned to avid interest.


“No.” Brian clicked for a new page and the school’s logo filled the screen. “Now. I have no interest in knowing about the Dean’s sordid past, real or manufactured. Unless he was a teacher or involved with a club thirty years ago, I’m not interested.” He turned back to the screen hoping he’d dismissed Henry.


The man pulled a notebook from his bag and opened it. Thumbing through the pages he stopped. “He was a teacher here in 1981. Two years later he became Dean.”


“So according to your records, when did this alleged deed happen?”


Henry looked at Brian with a long accessing gaze then shrugged. “I don’t know. There isn’t any record of a payment or police record. There is just a lot of talk. There has to be some truth out there.”


Brian turned back to the monitor, “Urban legends man, urban legends.”


“So you have nothing but speculation and under the table talk.” Brian dismissed the man and clicked over to his previous search.


“Who are you looking for?”


“No one you’d be interested in.” Brian returned with a hardness in his voice. “I look for missing people or missing heirs.”


“You’re a PI”


Brian didn’t answer H continued to look at Henry until the man stood. “Okay man.” He moved back to his seat across the room.


After an hour, He’d found a few names that popped up in conjunction with Ashley and Sawyer. He’d gotten luck and found an address where on of them lived. I also found an agriculture club picture that included Sawyer, Ashley and the two on his list. He printed the picture.


Sawyer had been a swimmer. There were pictures of him at meets and he found Ashley in the background of one of the pictures on line.


He looked at his list. Sam, Kristi, Mark and Peggy. What are the chances they’re roommates?”


When he looked up the names he found Sam was in a Dallas prison. Mark had done some time for selling pot and both Peggie and Kristi had a minor record for similar acts. Sawyer’s name had been listed also.


He packed his stuff, cleared the browser and waved as Henry called out to him when he left the office.





Henry waited until Brian left the building and watched the car leave the lot. Then he sat in the chair Brian vacated. People thought they wiped all informations their computer. Henry was smarter than the average bear. Nothing came up. He let loose a swear word a little too loud.


“Henry I’m going to call security!” Mrs. Anderson charged from her cube.


I’m going.” He pushed back the chair and saw a small slip of paper from a pocket notepad. Diving under the desk he grabbed it. Had it been here for weeks or had it slipped out of the man’s bag?


Staring down at the names on the list he frowned. He sat back down at the computer and did a quick search of the first name. Nothing much there. He made a note on his own notepad. When he typed in Ashley Boyton what he got caused his eyebrows to raise almost to his hairline. Ashley Boyton was married to Tyler Conrad, the candidate running in the hotly contested race for the governor of Tennessee. Bingo! He had a story. Not knowing what it was, he had to find this guy.


“Ms. Anderson, what was that man’s name who was just in here. I dropped something that may be valuable to his case.” Henry waved the paper in the air.


“I’m not giving you any information.”


“Please,” Henry leaned on her desk. “H may need this information. He just left, maybe I can catch him.”


“I doubt it.” She pulled the top drawer of the drawer-stack next to her and held out a card. Henry reached for it but she jerked it away. “I’ll make you a copy”


He handed him the sheet of paper and eyed him with disdain.


He pulled the paper from her grasp and headed out the door.


“Don’t come back Henry!” Mrs. Anderson called back at him.


In his car, Henry looked at the name and called the number. It rang and went to voicemail. “You have reached Brian Jacobi of Artemis Investigations. Leaver your name, number and a brief message. I’ll return your call.” Beep. Henry hung up. He pulled up an app and typed in the number. After a few seconds a dot blinked on a map.


“I got you.” He pulled out of the parking lot and headed for the address where the dot blinked.














In the hotel he made a list of of work history, utility bills for any of the names connected with Ashley and Sawyer. Some of the dates didn’t match the two so they must not have been on the lease with others or didn't rent on their own.


The next morning he headed for the house they rented before leaving. The area wasn’t in the greatest part of town, but it was close to the university. He pulled up in front of a side by side duplex. Each side had a small porch next to the triple sized garage. A woman sat in one of the two chairs in partial shade. Brian stepped out of the car and slung his bag over his shoulder, pasted his best smile on his lips and slowly made his way to the porch.


When the woman determined he was headed to her porch she jumped from her chair as fast as her elderly body allowed and wrenched open the security door, slamming it and locking it behind her.


Brian understood people’s fear of strangers. He’d noticed this wasn’t the best area and not the worst by any means. He stopped at the bottom of the steps. “Ma’am can you hear me?”


He watched the woman nod her head, her bobbed grey hair danced over her cheeks.


“I’m looking for information about some students who lived here about twenty-nine or thirty years go. There may have been two or possible three couples renting this unit. Do you know who owned it then?” He waited while she pierced him with her gaze.


He reached into his front pocket and she disappeared behind the door slamming it closed. He withdrew his card holder and calmly took out a card and climbed the steps pushing it through the mail slot, then stepping back down the stairs to where he’d been standing previously. He waited. She cautiously opened the door and bent to pick up his card.


After a moment she unlocked the security door and stepped out onto the porch.


“What did you say you were looking for?”


“Just information. Do you know who owned this place thirty years ago?” He kept his stance and voice, easy and familiar.


“My parents have owned this property for over fifty years.” The statement wasn’t friendly or defensive.


“May I speak to them?” He had the feeling they weren’t around, but left the option to tell him so or not to her.


“Not unless you have a halo and a pair of wings. Or you could go to the cemetery a couple miles away and talk to your heart’s content.”


Brian laughed. A good laugh that appreciated her wry humor. “Thank you no. Could you answer a few questions?”


“Fire away.”


“Did three couples live here twenty-eight years ago?”


“Yes.”


“Do you know when they left and where they might have moved to next? I didn’t find any utility or phone records after this one.” He pulled a sheet of paper from his bag. “It says the utility bills were registered to Mr. Robert Wilson. There was a phone registered here to Mark Pattersen.” He held out the paper for her to see.


She nodded then waved him up on the porch. “I can’t stand here forever with the door open.” She moved back to her chair and pointed to the one across from her. “Sit.”


Brian did as he was told and sat. “My name is Brian Jacobi and I’m a private investigator.”


“I’m Sally Wilson. Robert was my father. I guess I can tell you all about that bunch of losers.” She took a drink from the tall glass of iced tea. She didn’t offer him anything. “They lived here about at year. One couple then two couples then three. They didn’t ask, they just showed up and stayed.” She shook her finger at him. “They weren’t bad kids, well not too bad. They mowed the lawns, the girls planted flowers and my mother baked them cookies and pies. Then they built a greenhouse in the backyard. Just a frame with plastic all over it. Then they put on a tin roof and sides and ran a power cord to it. Dad saw it and asked what it was for. They told him they were raising vegetable starts for a community garden.” She leaned her head back on the chair and gave a disbelieving harsh laugh. “My folks were stupid. They believed them. I worked across town and I was busy. I didn’t come over as often as I should have. That year everything changed. I had a heart attack. When I got out of the hospital my doctor told me to take it easy and look for a less stressful job.” She gave another snort. “My father had a stroke not many weeks later. I had lots of decisions so make. So I did the only thing I could, I moved home.”


“I’m sure your parents appreciated that.” Brian eyed the tea pitcher.His throat was dry as the dirt beyond the driveway. He coughed and rubbed his neck.


“I’m sorry. Would you like a glass of tea?”


Brian nodded. She got up and returned with a glass and a plate of cookies. After pouring him a full glass of tea she pushed the plate over to him. “Best cookies ever. I made them but they won awards in our family at the county fairs over the years.” Sally crossed her leg over the other and picked at a stray lint on her slacks.


“Go on with your story. Your father had a stroke and you moved home.”


“I maybe old but I have a good memory.” Her sharp response made him raise his eyebrows in surprise.


She ignored him and continued her story. “My father past away in the rehab center. I moved in with mom, but we were two different people. She’d lived with this man more years than I’d been alive. I was independent and wanted my own space. Then the cops showed up.”


“Cops? Why?”


She gave a slight grimace and jerked her head toward the side of the house. “It seems they were growing and selling pot from that shed in the back. The cops banged on our door and hauled Mom and I outside putting us in handcuffs.”


Brian shook his head. “You can’t be serious?”


“I don’t think the cops were anything but serious. They thought two old ladies were supplementing their income selling pot.”


“What happened?”


“ They put us in the squad car and mom began crying wanting to know what was going on? I think she snapped. She kept asking if they took us away how would dad find her? I was too mad to understand what was going on in her brain. Eventually the place was swarmed by agents in all kinds of gear. They tore the shed down and fed the weed into a shredder and hauled it off in a truck. It smelled awful.”


“Where were the kids during all this?”


“I wondered if they had some clue it was going down. They all left. They usually went to school in the morning but not all at the same time. That day I’d seen them all leaving in a hurry. The car peeled out of the driveway and I wondered where they were going in such a hurry. Then I found out.


“Did they ever come back to the house?”


Sally refreshed her tea and took a large bit of cookie. “Yes, after we were let go and brought home. I pounded on their door. They opened it. I yelled at them. I had no idea what they were growing back there. I told them they had a week to get their stuff out of the house or I’d throw it out myself.”


“Wow. How did they take that?” Brian reached for his fourth cookie. He liked the shortbread chocolate chip cookie.


“They were angry, but one of them, the blond with the long hair, said they had another gig and would be leaving anyway. Could they stay a couple weeks until they could make arrangements to move to the farm? A farm? I thought when I agreed to it that I wondered what they were going to grow on that farm?”


“Did you ever talk to the others? The girls?”


“There was one girl with red hair. Oh how I envied her that hair color. She would come over sometimes and sit on the step over at the other house. She was classy and nice. She apologized and brought us dinner one thing. A chicken pot pie I thought I’d died and gone to heaven. The crust was so flakey and the filling was divine. You don’t want to hear about that. Anyway she was pregnant.-”


“She was what?” Brian kept his voice even so his excitement didn’t raise any notice.


“She was pregnant.” Sally repeated.


She’d laid that fact in his lap without him having to pry it from her. “Go on.” His voice sounded rough in his own ears. He ran his fingers through his hair then quickly put his hand on his leg. He hoped his hair wasn’t standing on end, all messed up.


“Yes, we had a conversation about it. It was obvious to me she was hiding it. She wore these bohemian flowing skirts and and tops. She must have bought all the kaftans from the thrift stores.” Sally gave a little laugh. “She was so pretty. She came back to visit me and mom after they moved to the farm.”


“So you knew where they moved to?”


“Oh yes. They moved to Stevenson Farmhouse restaurant. Well, it wasn’t then what it is now. It’s a farm to table restaurant and quite pricey if you get my drift.”


Brian nodded and pulled his small notepad from his pocket and wrote the name down.


“They all got jobs working at the farm. I can’t think of the girls name.” She tapped her finger on her chin.


“Ashley?” Brian prompted.


She stabbed her boney arthritic finger at him, “That’s right, Ashley. I wonder whatever happened to her. They didn’t work at the farm that next fall. I went there in October and looked around the place but they weren’t there.”


“So you said she came back and visited. Did she say anything about her plans for her and the baby?” He leaned on his knee, pen poised.


Sally bobbed her head back and forth in uncertainty. “Not really. She did say she didn’t want to know its gender until it was born. She said she was worried about the baby with Sawyer being so heavy into drugs. Her doctor had told her about some of the problems those baby’s could have. I remember her crying once after they’d had an argument. She told me she was thinking of giving up the baby for adoption but the father, whatever his name was, was adamant they were going to keep it. I was a bit surprised at that.” Sally’s eyes drooped a little and she was having trouble staying awake.


“Sally, I’ve been here awhile and we’ve had quite a talk. I need to get going, would it be alright if I stopped by again to talk?”


“Of course! Her head jerked up. I’d love you to stop by again.”


Brian took her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze then waved as he went to his car. He would call the restaurant tonight and see if he could talk to the owners.


Pulling away from the curb he thought. I’m on my way. I have no idea where I’m going but I’m on the right trail and soon I’ll find out what happened to that baby.




















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