Family Skeletons: A Spunky Missouri Genealogist Traces A Family's Roots...And Digs Up A Deadly Secret by Rett MacPherson

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    â€œSparky!” Rita finally corralled the little devil and set him outside. “God, I’m sorry. It’s my mother’s dog and he does that to everybody! He does it to me when I first come home, and I live here.”
    â€œHow nice…” Suddenly I realized what she had just said. “Your mother’s dog?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œDid Sheriff Brooke ask you about the dog?”
    â€œYes, as a matter of fact. I told him that Jeff picks the dog up on Thursdays.”
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œShots. He takes him to the vet to get his allergy shots. Mom couldn’t bear to see the needle go in. Or hear him yelp for that matter. It was just a little errand he did for Mom.” She smiled, face flushing. “Now I don’t know what to do with it.”
    â€œHmm,” was all I managed.
    That little errand that Jeff did for his mother could have aided in her death. If that dog reacted like that to all people, it could have warned her that somebody was in her house. Those stupid, trivial things that can put the wheels in motion were enough to drive me crazy.

Six
    The rain poured from the skies as if there were no tomorrow. It was one of those perfectly puky days, like I remember as a kid. I’d sit in the classroom and stare at the windows as the rain slid down the glass, dripping off of the metal.
    Rain in school didn’t seem real. The sky turned dark, and the classroom followed into its murky shade. It gave the classroom an eerie feeling.
    That is how I felt at the moment. I had caught my usual spring cold, brought on by allergies. My head felt as though it had been bludgeoned with a rubber sledgehammer, and my nose was raw. I had taken some over-the-counter sinus medication, which I should know better than to do. My legs were jumpy, and I could actually feel my hair growing. And I still had a stopped-up nose.
    I had read every letter that Eugene Counts had written to Viola Pritcher. I had gleaned a few new names to check out, but nothing earth-shattering.
    I had also received the death certificate for Eugene’s mother, Edith Mae Chappuis Counts. I was really excited about this. Most people get excited over new cars; I get excited over death certificates. It’s no wonder my husband worries about my state of mind.
    Edith Mae Chappuis Counts was born in 1899. Her parents were Gaston Chappuis, born in France, and Ellenore Rousson, born in Ste. Genevieve County, Missouri. The certificate told the date, time, and place of death. I couldn’t read who the attending physician was. But the most interesting piece of information was the informant. It was one Louise Mary Shenk, living in Washington, Missouri. This was Edith’s daughter.
    Who better than Eugene’s own sister to talk to? She could give me some idea if Eugene would like to see Rita and Jeff.
    Armed with new information, I headed downtown to the St. Louis library. I probably shouldn’t have driven in my state of disorientation, but I couldn’t let my sinuses rule my life.
    The library, located on Olive Street, is a massive structure with about forty steps up the front of it. The ceilings are ornate, and huge marble pillars are everywhere. I think they even stuck them in places they didn’t need to be. The history and genealogy room is quite impressive, as is the microfilm room downstairs.
    I found a corner of the genealogy room and set up my pencils, paper, and briefcase. My first stop was back out to the center room, where the majority of the computers are. This is the information area, complete with a desk full of employees to retrieve books from the stacks.
    One computer, however, has the telephone and address directory for the United States. If the person’s unlisted or listed under another name, it’s not much help.
    I punched a bunch of keys until the computer was ready to take my request. I typed: Louise Shenk, Washington, Missouri. No Louise. Next I tried just the last name,