show was half over when he tuned in so the plot seemed disjointed, but it didn’t matter because his thoughts were elsewhere.
At the Charleston library, he got lucky. The librarian was a chatty woman who seemed eager to help. She said her name was Annie McDonnell and told him the library had microfiche files for the Charleston Daily Mail going back 75 years plus a historical records reference section.
As she led him toward the small room in the back, she whispered, “Our collection is quite extensive. Anything you want to know about Charleston, you’ll find in here.”
Tom thanked her and said he was looking for information on a family who’d lived in Coal Creek. She smiled and momentarily forgot her hushed voice.
“I grew up in Coal Creek,” she said. “My daddy was a coal miner.”
“Any chance you remember a family named Hobbs?”
“That’s a pretty common name around here. In grade school we had three or four of them. A girl in my class was named Hobbs, but I don’t recall her first name.”
“Louella, Margaret, Nellie. Any of those names ring a bell?”
“Margaret. I think that’s it. She had a brother one grade back from us.”
“That’d be Virgil. You remember anything about him?”
“Only that he was a skinny little kid who got picked on a lot.”
The historical reference room had shelves lining both walls, study tables in the center of the room, and a microfiche viewing area in the back. She started to set up the machine. “Okay, you’ve got the Charleston Daily Mail. What years were you looking for?”
“Nineteen-fifteen, sixteen, and seventeen. The obituaries.”
“Back that far it’s not sorted by section. You’ll have to scan the pages. You looking for an obit on that kid—Virgil, you said his name was?”
“Not him. His mama and older sister. Why?”
“It’s just that I know there’s nothing on Virgil. He left town way before that and he’s never been back, at least not to my knowledge.”
“So you remember when he left?”
“Everybody remembers. It was quite the scandal. He was in maybe the third or fourth grade when it happened. He walked from Coal Creek to Charleston, then disappeared for good. I doubt a kid that age could get anywhere on his own. It’s likely his brother came and got him.”
“Which brother?”
“The older one; the one who was always protecting him at school.”
“Oliver?”
She shrugged. “Can’t say. He was a big kid, red hair, a boxy build.”
Tom pulled a small note pad from his pocket and jotted down, Oliver, red hair?
After five hours of searching through the microfiche files, Tom had nothing. What he had learned was that the Coal Creek area seemed to be one where people were born, lived, and died without ever moving away. In a tight-knit community like that, he was certain somebody knew something. The question was who? And what did they know?
That afternoon he drove back to Coal Creek and went directly to the Markey house where he’d met Caldonia. When he rapped on the door, it was the daughter-in-law, Rowena, who answered.
“Sorry,” she said. “Mama Markey’s feeling poorly and not up to company.”
“This won’t take but a few minutes,” Tom said. “Last time I was here, Caldonia mentioned that she’d like to chat with me again.”
“Yeah, well, maybe she was just being polite.” Rowena stood with her arm braced against the door frame and her body blocking the entrance. “She might’ve been more up to it that day. If you wanna tell me what this is all about, I can maybe see if she’s up to talking.”
Tom thought back on the way Caldonia had made a decided effort to keep whatever she knew from Rowena.
“I’d be happy to do that,” he said, “but the information I’m looking for goes back to way before your time. Likely as not, you weren’t even born yet.”
The antagonistic look on her face softened. “What makes you think that?”
“Well, look at you. You’re what, in your early forties?”
She laughed. “Don’t I wish!”
“So listen, you think maybe I could chat with Caldonia for a few minutes? You could sit in, maybe see if what we’re talking about rings a bell.”
The suspicion was back. “Nope. Mama Markey’s napping, and I’m not gonna disturb her.”
“I could wait.”
Rowena was already shaking her head. “No telling how long she’ll sleep.”
Tom could see he was getting nowhere. “Okay then, maybe I’ll stop back tomorrow, see how she’s doing.”
“Suit yourself,” Rowena said, “but I ain’t promising nothing.”
When Tom pulled out onto the dirt road and headed back to Charleston he’d already