Dumping Grounds (Joshua Stokes Mysteries)

Set in the mid 1970s rural Alabama, Dumping Grounds tells the tale of Joshua Eugene Stokes, the charismatic sheriff of Mobile County who is known for his manners, strength, and old-fashioned approach and Emma Marie Carr, a teenage loner from a dysfunctional family that has had its share of tragedy. So far, Emma's young life has been filled with disappointment. Finishing high school has been her greatest accomplishment. Frustrated by her parent's lifestyle and trying to decide what to do with her life, Emma gets a tattoo to celebrate her eighteenth birthday and then goes on a solo camping trip where she witnesses a vicious murder. Visited by ghosts of the former Caledonia Plantations slaves and owners, aging County Sheriff, Joshua Eugene Stokes spends a great deal of his free time sitting on his porch drinking and reminiscing the past. His passion for maintaining the pride and chivalry of the Old South make him a desirable lawman; however, the discovery of the mutilated, decapitated corpse of a young woman by a state worker, leads Joshua Stokes on the most challenging quest of his career. The case forces him to question his beliefs, his integrity, and to recollect events in his life and career that have brought him to the present day. It also places his life in imminent danger, as unseen forces seem to work against his every move. A tired, disillusioned Joshua must pull himself together if he is going to be able to save this young girls life.

From the Inside Flap

1 A rose tattooEarly March 1976Mobile Co, ALLeroy Johnson stood frozen, his face a combination of utter disgust and disbelief, as he tried to comprehend what he saw lying in the tall grass. Leroy could not take his eyes from the body. Johnson had worked for Alabama's Road and Bridge Department for 36 years, and in those 36 years, he had seen many things that common folk did not. He had found things too; things, such as money, jewels, and drugs, underwear and used condoms. One time, he even found an abandoned three-year-old child wandering along Highway 45 in Kushla, north of Eight Mile Bluff. Working in the country as he did, Leroy had witnessed many mangled and flattened out critters along the roadways of Alabama, but nothing like this. This was the first time Leroy ever found a dead body. Leroy could tell it was a woman, because of her feminine shape and appearance. She was a young woman by the looks of her. Of course, he really could not be sure of her age because her most identifying feature was missing. The woman's head was gone, completely severed from her body! Leroy stood there staring, trying to understand what had happened to this young white woman. In complete terror, he began to back away. "Oh Lawdy!" he whispered, backing away, trying to step in the same tracks he had walked coming into the thick grass to take a leak. "Lawd, please guide old Leroy's feets. I don't need no mo' troubles," Leroy closed his eyes to stop the vision, but it would not go away. Her left breast was gone, cut clean from her body. Her right breast partially removed. Leroy's old eyes took it all in. The bite marks on her body and the smudged writing on her wrist. Then there was a red and black rosebud tattooed on her stomach below her bellybutton. Her privates were cut up, same as her breasts. It looked as if someone had cut her down there too or maybe even, something worse. Leroy did not want to think about the something worse or consider what else they might have done to her. Even though he had backed far enough away that he could not see the corpse clearly, he could still see the wounds on the woman's body; they were seared into his mind. Leroy intended to ease back out of the tall grass and pretend he never saw her, but after backing ten to fifteen feet away, he thought he saw her arm rise up! Leroy freaked, tripped over his own feet and fell flat on his back. He began screaming and hollering for help. At first, he could not believe the hoarse screaming he heard was coming from his own throat. Leroy's head began to spin and his voice echoed through the bayou becoming fainter and then louder. Leroy's old heart, felt it would explode!Dense patchy fog hung low over the Tensaw River Delta of South Alabama, blanketing the Bayous of La Batre, Dauphine, and Grand Bay. The fog made it harder for Sheriff's officers and other officials to see as they steadily eased their way into swamplands alongside the new would be interstate highway. It was nearly complete, except for finishing a few exit ramps, which was what Leroy Johnson was working on when he discovered the body. The historic older route was now going to be called the "Scenic Route." It snaked its way leisurely along South Mississippi's picturesque coastline. There were grand hotels with the finest chefs from around the world. Golfing, day cruises, fine dining, and beaches where folks could swim and sunbathe. Tourists could enjoy all of this, and in addition to the finest seafood in the world and all with an ocean view, they now had gamming within the Broadwater Beach Resort. The "Poor Man's Riviera" was what folks called Biloxi. The new road would connect Mobile to New Orleans, bypassing smaller towns and cities along Highway 90. Many of Mississippi's politicians were furious and had tried to maneuver the new route farther south, believing the newer highway would divert tourists straight into Louisiana. If that happened, it would cut the economical throats of the smaller cities of Biloxi, Gulfport, and Pascagoula. The highway 90 route could not be widened, historic homes and businesses sat along the north of it. The Gulf of Mexico was within a 100 feet south of it. Therefore, to make it agreeable to everyone, the committee settled on a route a few miles north of the older historic highway. The searchers were looking for evidence left behind by whoever dumped the mutilated body of the young woman there. They were also searching for the remainder of the headless corpse. Just across the Mississippi State Line from where the body was dumped, was the notorious Ala-Miss Club. It had already developed a seedy reputation in the few short years it had been in operation. The club was a hangout for rough and tumble motorcycle riders and big-rig truckers that frequented the area. Weekends, the club drew large crowds of local honkytonker's from both South Alabama, and Southern Mississippi, in addition to the folks traveling through looking for a place to cool their heels and wet their gullets. Joshua Stokes dropped the microphone onto the seat of his patrol car and said, "Well, Cookie, I reckon we better start looking outside the county again," A check of missing person reports in the county failed to provide any clues to the identity of the dead woman. Currently, no young women had been reported as missing. "It appears we've become a dumping ground for a perverted killer," the sheriff grumbled as he lit a cigarette and took a long draw. "At least this one has a tattoo, whereas the others had nothing. It may help identify her." "Yes Sir, it's different," Elias Cook agreed. "I've never seen a tattoo of black rose like that before, have you?" Before Joshua could respond, he added, "If he didn't want her identified, he could a carved it off like he did her titties. He's a sick son of a bitch to do that to em'. They're probably begging him to kill em, before he's through carving em up like that!" "Probably," Joshua responded. "No telling what they go through from the looks of all those bite marks." the deputy shook his head while reaching into his back pocket for a comb. Joshua Stokes watched as his deputy meticulously combed his hair. He slicked it back on the sides and then flipped the back into a ducktail. The Brylcreem in his hair, gleamed in the sunlight that had burned off the early morning fog and was bearing down on them. Stokes thought his deputy vain, but to him, it seemed most youngsters were like that nowadays. He hoped he had not been the same when he was the deputy's age. "Yeah, Cookie, he's a sick bastard for sure, but he's a smart one too. It's hard to identify a body with missing parts and even harder without a head. The head we found along here last year don't match any of the bodies we've found so far; it was male according to the coroner." "There may be other heads along through here, Sheriff. A head is much harder to spot than a body is. The gators and other scavengers in this swamp would tote a head off pretty quick, it being small," the deputy speculated. "That's true," replied the sheriff, not really wanting to discover if there were. The sheriff was only a year away from retirement. The fewer cases he left open the better. To retire at 50, while he would still be young enough to enjoy it, was Joshua's goal. Joshua had already accepted there were several cases he would never solve. The headless female body from March of 1970 was one of them. The body surfaced near Earlville, along the Escatawpa River, north of Mobile during the investigation of Willie Stringer's disappearance. "I've been at this job for thirty years, Deputy Cook, and it never fails to surprise me at what some human beings are capable of" Joshua said quietly.

About the Author

I grew up in a family of storytellers on both the maternal and paternal sides of my family. I could sit for hours listening to them tell stories passed down from ancestors and stories of their own about how it was when they were growing up. I especially loved the ghost stories! When the stories ended, I wanted more... many times, I concocted my own stories where I would journey with these mysterious people, my ancestors. I found them fascinating. All I knew about them was what my parents and grandparents told me. However, it was never enough, I always wanted more... I began researching genealogy. What I learned through genealogy research still did not fill the void. I needed more, so, in my mind I invented more! Somehow, I felt as though I had known each character personally, sat and talked with them about their lives. I gave each a personality and a face. I could do that because of the descriptive storytelling ability of the storytellers. I want to be like that. I want to share my stories with all of those around me. Those who enjoy journeying into another world, a world that makes us forget about our troubles. A mysterious world, that exists only between the pages of a book. My name is Susan Cobb Beck. I also write under the pseudonym, Lila Beckham. I live along the coast in Southern Alabama with my husband, three children, three dogs and half a dozen cats :)

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