Counted corpse, p.11
Counted Corpse, page 11
“I won’t, Paisley, but when you understand more, you’ll explain?” she asked as her eyebrows drew together in concern.
“Absolutely.” I studied the ledger now in my hands. “In fact, are you free tonight? I think we need to get some folks together and share this.”
“I can be. What time?”
“Eight o’clock at my house. We can talk on the porch while Sawyer sleeps.” I needed to get going to meet Mika and Sawyer, but I also knew that I wouldn’t be able to concentrate on much else until I shared this with everyone involved.
“Great. I’ll bring cookies,” she said as she began to total out the register for the day. “See you then.”
I nodded as I scooped my computer and the ledger in question into my bag. “You’ll look at the other two?” I suddenly asked.
“Already planning on it. I should be able to see the pattern much sooner now if it’s there. I’ll let you know tonight.” Mrs. Stephenson smiled and then stepped over to hug me. “It’s going to be okay, dear.”
I felt a little of my anxiety ease. “Thanks. I hope so,” I said as I put my phone to my ear to call Santiago on my drive home. Thank goodness for Bluetooth.
* * *
By the time I reached home, I had already talked to Veronica, Mary, Demetrius, and Santiago, and everyone, including Chief Stephenson, who Mary was going to call, was going to meet at my house at eight. I knew they might have to wait a bit if Sawyer wasn’t ready to sleep, but I was hoping that the water park had made him ready to drop off early.
Sure enough, when Mika pulled in a few minutes after me, she and Sawyer were singing at the top of their lungs, a sure sign that Auntie Miks had employed any tactic necessary to keep the boy awake on the ride home.
I put him on the couch with videos, his blanket, and dinner, and he managed to eat two chicken nuggets, three carrots, and a serving of apple sauce before starting to rub his eyes and demand chocolate milk, the final stage of his bedtime routine.
While Mika tidied the kitchen and took Beauregard for a walk around the yard, I sat with my son and watched him slide toward sleep. About seven, he was on the verge, so I carried him up, read him half of one book, and then tucked him in. He was out by seven-thirty, and I expected when I came up later, he wouldn’t have moved a muscle. Thank God for the great invention of water parks.
Back downstairs, I gratefully accepted the large, well-salted margarita that Mika handed me and dropped onto the couch. I had told her the overall sketch on the phone while she was bringing Sawyer home, but now I pulled out the ledger and showed her exactly what Mrs. Stephenson had found.
“So he was sharing his wealth with his friend?” Mika said.
“It appears that way, and a lot of wealth, too.” I studied the figures again. “I mean, I love you, but I couldn’t even begin to think about giving you over a hundred and fifty thousand dollars.”
“What?!” Mika said with mock horror. “Some friend you are.”
I smiled. “This begs a lot of questions though. Like why didn’t he free Elijah and then give him the money legally?”
Mika nodded. “That’s a good question.”
We sat quietly sipping our drinks and letting the work of the day drain away. Just before eight, Mika stood, went to the kitchen, and fixed eight more margaritas. I didn’t think I needed a second, but when she handed the glass to me and said, “Just in case,” I didn’t refuse. This might be just the kind of conversation where lowered inhibitions would be helpful. Or not.
I headed out to the porch to direct people around front, where I had set out folding chairs and put out the rockers so that we could sit by the firepit and a little further away from the window near where Sawyer was sleeping. Everyone here knew he was upstairs, but this was going to be a big conversation . . . and big conversations sometimes came with big voices.
Demetrius and Chief Stephenson both turned down margaritas but readily accepted iced tea with mint, and the rest of us added sprigs of mint to our own glasses before settling in. I asked Mrs. Stephenson to explain what she found, and she did so . . . with handouts. I was very impressed.
When she was done, everyone sat staring at a page from the ledger and then flipping to the copy of the totals page and the note about Elijah that she had copied for them. “I found the same thing in the two other ledgers I have. So far, I calculate that Nicholas gave Elijah the equivalent of about a half million dollars in today’s money.”
I stared at her and gasped. “Wow.”
“Yes, and when you figure that was approximately one third of the entire net worth of Benfer’s estate in these three years, well, then you can see he was being profoundly generous with this man.”
Mary and Demetrius stared at her and then Mary said, “So this is how Elijah came to own so much land? He bought it?”
Mrs. Stephenson shook her head. “No, I don’t think so. I need to see any other documents, but it looks to me,” she held up the ledger in her hands, “like Nicholas was actually giving him land quietly under what we’d now call a shell corporation.”
Demetrius shook his head. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying that it looks like Nicholas gifted your ancestor over two hundred acres of land and a half million dollars.” Mrs. Stephenson’s face was serious, but I could see the glint of glee in her eyes. She loved this story.
“Well, way to go, Grandpa Nicholas,” Nick Benfer said. “Nothing, short of him having freed all his slaves, could make me prouder.” He looked a little choked up.
Chief Stephenson spoke. “It is a great gift, and I don’t want to bring down the mood. But he didn’t free Elijah. Why not?”
Demetrius cleared his throat. “I may know the answer to that. Here in Virginia, if someone was freed, they had two years to leave the commonwealth. They couldn’t stay here and remain free.”
I tilted my head. “Yes, I do remember that. Passed the legislature in 1806, I think. Some people hated it because it split up families, but those with the power did it to prevent revolt and escapes, right?”
“Right. On my dad’s side, his great-grand-uncle got freed, but he had to leave his entire family behind because the master didn’t free them. He never recovered and basically drank himself to death in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania.” Demetrius’s face was grim. “Freedom came at a great cost.”
I sighed. “So you’re thinking that Elijah didn’t want to be freed because his family was here, and he didn’t want to leave?”
Demetrius nodded. “I think it’s a possibility.”
The circle was very quiet. “I’ll dig into that and see what I can find about Elijah’s family, see if I can determine the reasons Benfer gave him that gift,” I said.
“Thank you, Paisley,” Demetrius said.
“Yes, thank you,” Nick added.
Santiago cleared his throat. “We also need to talk about your brother, Nick.” I could tell that Santiago wasn’t really eager to have this conversation, but I knew he needed to.
“Yes, we do,” Nick said. “I’m glad Paisley told you what happened.”
Demetrius, Mary, and Chief Stephenson passed a confused look among them. “Why, what happened?” Mary asked.
“Levi threatened me.” I swallowed, “and Sawyer if I didn’t stop this research.” I explained what had happened in detail, and, not surprisingly, everyone was horrified.
“Can you arrest him, Santiago?” Mika asked.
“I could,” he said, “but that might cause more trouble than it’s worth since it would mean formal charges and a trial and—”
I interrupted. “I don’t want to press charges,” I said firmly. “I just want him to understand he can’t speak to me or my son that way.” I shivered. “He needs to know that Sawyer is protected.”
“I spoke with him this afternoon and let him know in no uncertain terms that he was to leave you alone,” Nick said. “I also asked my attorney to send him a formal cease and desist letter that lays out exactly why he has no right to interfere.”
Santiago smiled. “Now, you’re talking, Nick. That’s perfect.”
I blushed. “Thank you so much.”
Veronica leaned over and took my hand. “No need for thanks. It’s simply the right thing to do. We don’t want anyone threatening our friends, and, selfishly, we want you to be clear-headed enough to really do this research well. It’s important.”
I leaned over and tossed another log onto the fire while I said a silent prayer of gratitude for good people in my life. “Thanks, everyone.”
We enjoyed the dance of the flames for a few minutes, and then I decided to see if I could recruit some help with this research. I was the only one really qualified and trained to go through the documents, but my friends had other skills. I took a deep breath and took command, channeling my best Jean-Luc Picard energy.
“I could use some help,” I said and as every head in the circle nodded, I began to dispatch my requests. “Mary, could you dig through the church records to see what you can find about Elijah’s gift of land for the church? See if there are any papers or such?”
“You got it, woman,” Mary said.
“Demetrius, can you do the same for your family’s papers?”
He smiled and nodded.
“Santiago, can you ask the clerk’s office to help you put together a chain of title for that land and all of the Benfer land over the years? I’d like to see if we can track the land’s movements over the years.”
Santiago laughed. “You want me to use my power for good?”
“I do,” I smiled.
“You got it.” He squeezed my hand.
“Mrs. Stephenson, can you help me continue to go through the records to find more anomalies like this one?” She clapped her hands and grinned, so I took that to be a yes.
Finally, I looked at Chief Stephenson. “I hate to ask something of you given all that you are managing right now, but could you continue to see what you can find about that land in your tribal records?”
“Absolutely, Paisley,” she said. “I am eager to see if Elijah knew people were buried there or if, perhaps, he donated the land with the idea that it would be preserved.”
I studied her face a moment as I thought about that. “You think he might have been protecting the land by giving it to the church?”
“I think it’s a possibility. Maybe he didn’t trust that he could keep it himself or that if it passed down to his children they would remember and honor the burial ground there.” She shrugged. “I’m hoping that’s the case, I guess.” She looked over at Demetrius and smiled.
Orders dispatched, I refrained from saying “Make it so” and instead said, “Thank you.”
Then, Mika cleared her throat. “And what are my marching orders, Paisley?” Her voice was small.
“I have the most important job of all for you . . . Sawyer duty. I’m going to put my nose to the grindstone for the next few days, and I could use your help to keep that little boy occupied. Do you mind?”
Mika beamed. “I’d love that! I have about a million ideas for what we can do at the store. Maybe I’ll even have a kids’ class at the end of the week.”
I could see the metaphorical wheels turning behind everyone’s eyes, and I took the last sip of my margarita in a sort of quasi-contentment. We had a lot of questions to answer, but I knew we could do it. At least I hoped we could.
10
The next morning as soon as I got Sawyer settled in at Mika’s store, I walked up to the historical society office and knocked on the door. Technically, they weren’t open on Thursday mornings, but I’d asked Xzanthia Nicholas, the director, if we could meet anyway. She readily agreed when I told her it was about the church, and now, she was standing there, elegant as usual, with her glowing, walnut-colored skin and her long, golden triangle earrings.
“Paisley, I’ve been pulling some documents that might be useful,” she said as she gestured for me to come in. “I know the last thing you probably need is more documents to go through, but well, this is what we do, isn’t it?”
I smiled. “Yes, ma’am, it is. Thank you.”
We sat down at the long table in their archival reading room, and she pulled over the first box. “This is our collection of things about the church. I expect they have much more, as they should, but if there’s something here that they might not have, I thought I’d get it out for you.”
I flipped through the folders, which appeared to be mostly old bulletins and funeral programs, a couple of fans with the face of white Jesus on them, which made both Ms. Nicholas and me shake our heads. I couldn’t see anything of particular import here, but I wasn’t the expert. “Do you mind if Mary Johnson comes over and looks through this box? She’s the church historian, and she’ll know what isn’t duplicated in their records. Maybe you all can even coordinate a bit.”
“Perfect,” Ms. Nicholas said as she slid the box away and grabbed another. “This here is our Benfer collection. We have other pieces on display in the museum here, but I reviewed those and they don’t have any mentions of enslaved people or anything about land in specific. You can browse those if you want, but I thought this might be more useful.”
I stood to look through the boxes contents. “Oh, this is correspondence and,” I paused as I carefully lifted out a folder marked “Will,” “what is this?”
I sat down and gingerly laid the folder open as I began to read, “I, Nicholas Benfer, being of sound mind and body do, on this day, 1 July 1852, leave this final will . . .”
“This is Nicholas Benfer’s will.” The blood was pounding in my ears. “But not the final one, an earlier one, right?”
“I believe so,” she said. “You can tell me more certainly, but given that this one isn’t signed by the clerk, I don’t think it was ever filed officially.”
“So it’s probably a draft.” I scanned down the page, looking for the upswing of capital letters to indicate names. About two-thirds of the way down the page, I saw it, “Elijah Morris,” and I slowed my eyes.
“I do bequeath to my brother-at-heart, Elijah Morris, half of all my earth possessions and leave to him his wife, Lavinia, and his children Moses and Ned.”
I sat back hard against my chair as I passed Ms. Nicholas the paper and let her read for herself. “Whoo!,” she said. She knew the importance of that sentence, and the danger of it too. “That’s not in the final version?”
I shook my head. “No, but there is more.” I explained to her about how Nicholas The Fifth had given all that money to Elijah over the years but hidden it.
“Because he had to,” she said with a shake of her head. “He couldn’t give him all of this property without freeing him and his family, but if he freed them, they had to leave.”
I stared at her for a second. “But you’re right, if he could bequeath his wife and children to him, he must have owned them. So why not free them all?”
“That’s a good question,” Ms. Nicholas said. “Let’s find out.” She pulled another folder from the box, and I saw the tab was labeled “Inventory.”
“An inventory of enslaved people at BelAirre? No way.”
“Indeed. It was the document I was most interested to find in here. It’s rich with information, including family groupings and some occupations.” She slid a stapled pair of pages over to me. “I already made you a copy, but I thought you might want to see the original first.”
I smiled and said, “Yes, please.” Then, I scanned the document. It was dated 1852, a year after the earlier inventory I’d found but organized by families as the other one had been. There, I saw Elijah and Lavinia Morris and their children Moses and Ned. Emily, “Elijah’s sister.” “Elijah had a sister.”
Ms. Nicholas nodded. “And see that note next to her name.”
I drew my eyes right and saw there, in parentheses, the phrase, “At the Beazleys.” I looked up at Ms. Nicholas. “She’s not at BelAirre.” I felt my heart sink.
“That’s what I’m thinking. The Beazley plantation was next door, so it sounds like she was there for some reason.” Ms. Nicholas sat back and looked at me.
“And if she was with them, she might have been owned by them, somehow, and that would mean that Elijah would have to leave her behind if he was freed.” I choked back tears. “What a terrible choice.”
Mrs. Nicholas nodded. “Absolutely terrible. The question we have to answer is why she was there.”
“I mean if she was born to Lavinia, then she was technically the property of Nicholas Benfer, right?” I knew the answer to my own question, but this situation was so strange that I was questioning what I knew.
“Correct. So why was that not the case?”
“Or why was a tiny baby – she had to have been born in the last year because she’s not on the inventory from earlier that year,” I told her, “living away from her family.
“Sounds like you have another mystery, my dear.” Ms. Nicholas slipped the folder back into the box and closed the lid. “I’m going to leave these right here so you can come back, but I can see from that look in your eye that you need to track down this story first.”
I sighed. “Yeah. I do.” I stood up. “Thank you.” I bent down to give the tall woman a hug. “I’ll keep you posted.”
“Please do,” she said as she stood and walked me to the door. “And be careful, Paisley. Even one-hundred-seventy-five-year old secrets sometimes get people scared.”
Didn’t I know it?
* * *
I called Santiago as I walked back toward Mika’s store to check on Sawyer, and he answered in a whisper. “I’m in the clerk’s office. Call you back in ten?” he said.
“Or just come to Mika’s. I have something to tell you, too. Oh, and see if you can find any legal cases involving the Benfers in the 1850s,” I added at the last minute.
“Okay. That sounds interesting.”
“Very,” I said before hanging up. Everything about this situation was interesting and hard and beautiful and complicated, but I was determined to sort things out, somehow.
