4

“Thank the Lord for half-days.” Mom threw herself into her chair. She pulled off her heels and slapped them on the desk. “Now I can stop this travesty in its tracks.”

I lay stretched out on the couch with the newspaper over my face, trying to hide.

Mom’s laptop binged as it booted, followed minutes later by her fingers on the keyboard, first squeaking like guitar strings, then like a fan on a snare drum.

“You’re making enough noise to wake the dead.”

“I intend to.”

“I’m not dead,” I said from under the paper.

“Not you.” She pounded away. “I am referring to the brain dead puppets on the County Council. The planning board says destroying the Tin City cemetery is completely legal!”

“Those would be the puppets?”

“The one and the same. They say the development company has signatures for the relatives of the deceased giving them permission. I find that hard to believe. Don’t you find it hard to believe?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Don’t patronize me.”

“I’m not.”

“I’m tired of being patronized today.”

I moved the paper aside. “Is this about the injunction you filed?”

“The injunction that was denied, you mean.”

“Did you see they identified the victim of the Nagswood fire?”

“Yes, I did.”

“Any thoughts?”

“Many. Come to the Council meeting tonight, and you’ll hear them all.”

I checked my watch. 1615 hours. “I was hoping for a ride to the regional history museum.”

“That’s halfway across the county. What’s wrong with your truck?”

“Oil leak.”

“Fix it.”

“I will once I get to the auto parts store. Can you give me a ride there first?”

“Not until after five PM, my dear boy.”

Lamar walked down the hallway. He was dressed in olive green slacks and a starched white shirt.

“If you’re ready to go.” Lamar buttoned both cuffs. “I’ll run you down to the store. I’ve got some errands to do.”

“Thanks,” I said. “I’ll get my stuff.”

While I was getting ready, the house phone rang. Mom answered and took the call outside for privacy. She finished as Lamar and I were leaving.

“What’s that on the grass outside?” Mom asked me on the way to the truck. “Is that cookies?”

“Possibly.”

“How long have they been there?”

“A while.”

“Why are they still on the grass?”

“Thought the birds would eat them, but even the crows didn’t touch them.”

“Smart birds,” Lamar said.

“Boone?” Mom crossed her arms. “Did you try cooking again?”

“I had a sweet tooth, so I used your recipe to make some snickerdoodles. They were a failure. I don’t understand why. I followed the recipe precisely.”

Mom clamped her lips together, struggling not to laugh. “There’s your trouble. The best recipes are never in a book.”

5

Twenty minutes later, Lamar’s truck was roaring down Highway Twelve toward Atamasco at seventy miles per hour. We had just left the auto parts store, where I had bought the parts to fix my truck.

"Mind dropping me off at the museum, too? I can kill two birds that way."

"Don't mind at all."

“Just an observation,” I said, “but when I drive over the speed limit, there’s always a deputy around the next corner. Especially Deputy Mercer.”

Lamar drummed his fingers on the wheel. “Normally, I would say you’re being paranoid, but that feller has given tickets to at least three firefighters. Julia got one on the way to that brushfire up in Black Oak Shelter.”

“He almost busted me on the Tin City call, remember? If Sheriff Hoyt hadn’t stopped me, he would’ve Tased me.”

“Hoyt’s pretty good at keeping his deputy’s reined in. Comes with the territory.”

“I’m not following you.”

“In North Carolina, the office of sheriff is elected, which means half the job is political. Hoyt’s a good man, and he follows the spirit of the law, but there are some things he does to stay on the voters’ good side.”

“Got anything in particular in mind?”

“When I read the paper today, I got a little worried about a few things Hoyt said. There are times when it’s a good idea to stay away from politics, if you know what I’m saying.”

I wasn’t quite sure what Lamar meant, but it seemed like a good time to nod.

“By the way, your mama’s proud as punch you were the one who found that woman. I may not like the way it happened, but there’s no doubt those inspectors never would’ve found her.”

“Thanks. But we might have saved her, if the Atamasco VFD had listened to me.”

“Maybe. Maybe not. That’s not your place to decide, even if you think it is. Listen, Boone, I know you want to be a bone detective like your granddaddy. Fact is, you aren’t out of school yet, and there are some things you’ve got to let the experts figure out.”

He was wrong, but I decided not argue. It was a waste of oxygen.

“What’s this trip to the museum for?” Lamar said.

“Research.”

“I figured that much. What kind of research?”

“North Carolina History class.”

“Extra credit?”

“Something like that,” I said. “What’s your errand for?”

“I’m meeting with the captain of the Atamasco VFD. We’re going to discuss personnel.”

6

Lamar dropped me near the entrance of Atamasco Farms. Like Dr. Echols said in class, Atamasco had thrived more than the other towns, and it was obvious even from the small collection of buildings that have been preserved. It was also obvious because Atamasco was still a small but growing town near the highway, while Tin City was a graveyard.

Literally.

I surveyed the house. It was in excellent shape even after fifty years. Clapboard siding, small porch, double hung windows freshly painted. An aluminum roof, a modernized version of the tin ones those once were ubiquitous in the county. A two hundred and fifty gallon propane tank stood nearby.

Mrs. Yarbrough met me at the front of the museum, which was a renovated homestead farmhouse expanded to include a collection of artifacts. She led me to a small library in the back.

“These will get you started.” She pulled several books from the shelves. “I realized when you left the library that I failed to provide the information you needed. Make yourself at home, and I’ll make myself scarce. But before I do, let me give you a history lesson.”

I checked my watch and hoped it was a short lesson.

According to Mrs. Yarbrough, Allegheny County was a land of sleepy ambition. It started life as part of a neighboring county, until it split off following the civil war. The new county was named in honor of Confederate General Codsworth Allegheny. After several failed attempts, the county seat was created in Galax, a dot on the map that grew slightly larger with the building of a courthouse and nearby jail. Allegheny grew tobacco, and the county begrudgingly grew with it.

Then the unthinkable happened. King Tobacco lost its crown. It was not a coup d’état, no quick overthrow and seizure of power. It began slowly, with the US government’s tightening hold on allotments, with subsidies that made it more profitable not to grow tobacco than to grow it. Finally, it was the creation of the Golden Leaf Foundation, which was funded with the billions that cigarette companies were forced to pay. The Golden Leaf was intended to change the way tobacco farmers farmed, but it also included buyouts for farmers unwilling or unable to adapt.

The beneficiaries were a new breed of carpetbaggers called developers. They bought huge tracts of land from farmers. Allegheny County awoke from its long slumber to a frenzy of neighborhoods being built across the county line.

As those homes sold, the building expanded up the highways, hopscotching between existing farms to the land that had been sold out. Eventually, the frenzy found its way across the county, where it petered out on Highway Twelve near Tin City. It appeared the western part of the county had escaped the sprawl, until the NC State Transportation Department announced a new highway bypass.