A Killer Read (23 page)

He’d covered Elvis Presley’s funeral and the murder of John Lennon and interviewed Sally Ride, the first American woman in space, as well as several visiting dignitaries. His final published story had been a tourist guide to the Old South. Of course, there was no hint anywhere in the box as to what he’d been researching at the time of his death.

Lizzie lingered over the photographs of the young Monroe Turner and wondered what he would have looked like in middle age. She tried to recall his voice or any mannerisms but came up blank. Frustrating. But it had been a long time ago.

The doorbell rang and jolted her back to the present. She glanced at the clock— eight thirty
P. M.
—and wondered who’d drop by at this hour. She pulled back the sheers covering the window and peeked out, spotting an Ashton Corners Police cruiser in her driveway. Annoyed, she prepared to stonewall Officer Craig and opened the door.

“Sorry to just stop by without calling first, Lizzie,” Mark said, hat in hand.

It took her a few seconds to refocus. “I’m surprised, but come on in, Mark. Is this official?” She looked at the uniform.

He gave a small laugh. “No, I’ve just finished for the day and was heading home and saw your light on.”

“I thought you lived in the other direction.”

“I like to take a small drive around to unwind before going home. And I was hoping you’d be in.”

“Have a seat.” She indicated the living room. “I was just
having some hot tea. Would you like some? Or can I get you a beer? I have some Coors and Olde Towne Pilsner on hand.”

“A Coors would go down real great right about now.”

She was back in a flash with the beer and a glass in case he wasn’t one to drink out of the bottle. “And what are you doing, working on a Sunday? No, you don’t have to answer. I think you already told me— family time for the others, right?”

He nodded and gave her a small smile. She noticed how fatigued he looked after at least seven straight days of work. His shoulders had a slight hunch to them, rather than his usual ramrod straight stature. His eyelids drooped, just a tad. And his uniform looked like it had gone through a lot of movement during the day.

Mark glanced at the open scrapbook as he sat down. “Your daddy’s stuff?”

Lizzie nodded. “I was just looking to see if there were any notes or anything tucked in the scrapbook that might give a clue as to what story he was working on when he died. I’ve had another phone call.”

Mark sat up straighter. “What did the person say this time?”

“It was a shorter call but basically, he just said the same thing.”

“And did you recognize the voice? You think it was a male?” He sounded all official again.

“No, it was sort of muffled, but it sounded like the same caller as before. I’m just calling the person a male. Makes it easier. I was sort of rattled, so I asked George Havers to see if he can find anything out about the story my daddy was working on.”

Mark stood up, walked to the window and looked out. “You should have called me right away, Lizzie.”

“Probably. But it wasn’t really menacing or anything.”

“Just scary?”

“Right.” She shifted on the couch. “Now, you may think
I’m way off base here, but it just seems sort of strange to me that Frank Telford is murdered, a rare occurrence in town, and I start getting these phone calls.”

Mark sat back down, next to Lizzie this time. “There’s nothing to tie them together, is there?”

“No. But then there’s also the manuscript.”

Mark raised his eyebrows in question. Lizzie shrugged and got up to get the latest chapters from the end table where she’d left them after rereading them early that morning. “I didn’t think these were tied in either, but it’s part of a story about something that happened quite a long time ago. I’m guessing in the 1960s or so. Three chapters are delivered to my mailbox in the middle of the night each time. I’ve had twelve chapters in total now. It’s a chilling story about a guy who was duped out of his life savings, couldn’t face it and committed suicide, leaving a wife and small daughter. The wife gets a job, has an affair with her boss and is fired when she reveals she’s pregnant. She commits suicide, and the daughter is put in foster care. That’s as far as it goes… so far.”

Mark sat in silence for a few moments. “That is a sad story, but why do you think it’s connected to the other things you mentioned?”

“Well, it reads more like a journal that’s been fictionalized— mainly because of the grammar, things like that.”

Mark interrupted. “I leave all that to you. Never my forte in school.”

Lizzie smiled. “Well, I could be right off base, but it got me to wondering.”

Mark drank some of his beer and sat thinking, then had another drink. “It sounds a little far-fetched to me, but I’ll look into it. I’m happy to get any leads I can at this point. Nothing else seems to be panning out. I’ll talk to Havers in the morning. Maybe I can help by putting in some official requests for information somewhere along the line.”

He finished his beer just as Brie jumped into his lap. He absently stroked the cat as he sat thinking. Lizzie liked that.

“You’ll be walking away with a furry uniform, Chief,” Lizzie warned him.

Mark looked down at the cat. “That’s what clothes brushes are for.” He smiled at her. “Are you nervous about being here on your own?”

She laughed. “You’re the second person to ask me that. Sally-Jo Baker invited me to stay at her place. But I’m sure I’m okay here. What do you suggest?” She bit her tongue. How could she have been so bold as to ask that? If only she could hit rewind. It sounded as if she were flirting. Maybe she had been, subconsciously.

Mark chuckled. “I can sleep anywhere. A couch does the trick for me.” He stared into her eyes.

She had the distinct feeling he was about to kiss her. And what surprised her even more was the realization that that was exactly what she wanted him to do. She leaned toward him at the same time as he moved, only to have the telephone shatter the moment.

She smiled awkwardly, swallowed hard and went to the phone.

“Oh, hi, Molly.” She’d been hoping to hear back from Molly. Too bad the timing was so lousy. Also, she was reluctant to have this conversation with Mark in the same room. “How is everything?” She’d try and keep her questions as neutral as possible.

She realized Molly hesitated a moment before answering.
She must be wondering what’s up.
“Well, it took a lot of doorbell ringing and coaxing, but Stephanie finally opened the door and let me in. Then it took some more time before she’d admit to me that she’s been getting those calls, just like Andie said, but she wouldn’t tell me who they were from. I can’t help but thinking it’s to do with the baby, maybe the
baby’s daddy and the poor child doesn’t want anything to do with him.”

“That sounds a likely scenario.”

“And, furthermore, I’d say she won’t be telling us anytime soon where she hails from because she’s worried one of us might give her whereabouts away.” Molly snorted. “As if I’d let some overbearing lout know where she’s living.”

“I’m sure you’re right, Molly. I just wish there were something we could do about it.”

“Well, I’m not about to give up on her. But it sounds to me like this is a bad time for you to talk?”

“You’ve got that right.”

“A certain young police chief is there maybe?”

Lizzie smiled. “You are one smart woman.”

“All right then. Enough talk for now. You go get back to your young man. G’night, honey.”

“G’night.” Lizzie didn’t even bother trying to correct her. Not her “young man” at all.

Mark had finished his drink. “Is everything all right with Ms. Mathews?” He sounded genuinely concerned.

She shrugged. “Oh, yes. It’s just that she’s a mama hen to many of us and takes her role seriously.” She eyed his empty glass. “Can I get you another Coors?”

“No, thanks. I’d better pass. Wouldn’t look too good if the chief, in uniform, got pulled over or worse yet, had to go directly to a call. I’d better get going, but I’ll take a rain check if you don’t mind?”

She walked him to the front door. “Just so you know, I keep tabs on them once they’re given out.”

He smiled at her. “Oh, I do plan to make use of it.” He pulled open the door, then paused. “Are you sure you’re feeling okay about being here alone?”

She nodded. “I’m perfectly fine. I don’t feel at all threatened, just curious.”

“Well, give me a call tomorrow first thing if you get a call or if another of those manuscripts appears. You hear?”

“I’m all ears.”

“Oh, there’s more to you than ears, lady.” He gave her a quick kiss on the lips and left.

L
izzie slept fitfully, half listening for either the phone to ring or the mailbox to shut. At dawn, she realized since neither had happened, she felt a bit disappointed.
How dumb is that?

The drive to school took longer than usual as Bryer Street had been blocked off by the police for a huge flatbed truck and trailer easing a modular ranch house along the road. The rooftop slowly wove its way under the huge branches of the Spanish oak overhanging the street. Folks had come out of their houses and stood on verandahs to watch, and a smattering of children, who would be late for school, were rooted to their spots along the sidewalks.

She knew the prefab house was destined for the empty lot about halfway along. That had been the address of the Kliborn House for many years, possibly a century, but it had finally given way to neglect and disrepair after the last family member died. The new owners had decided the cheaper
route was to raze the place and then, to be the owners of the first modular house in this area.

As interesting as the entire process was, Lizzie needed to get to her first appointment, so she made a U-turn, along with several other cars, and took the longer, unblocked route through the center of town to school.

H
er morning consisted of sitting in on classes, and her afternoon was another long, drawn-out yawn of a school administration meeting. Her three-minute report was accepted without comment, another reason to wish she had skipped the whole process. She couldn’t make the quick escape she’d planned on, though, and ended up sharing coffee and listening to a litany of complaints from some of the other consultants.

By the time she made it home, there was no time to change or eat dinner. She found the manuscript on the end table where she’d last left it, and stuffed it into her tote, filled the cat dishes with dry food and left, peeling a banana that she ate on the way to Molly’s.

This evening’s literacy session sported full attendance for a change, always gratifying to a teacher. Of the three women and three men enrolled, Lizzie felt half of them really wanted to be there while the others knew that regardless of their take on the class, they had to complete it if they wanted to pass their GED.

She was wondering if Troy would talk to her during break and tell her why he’d skipped class. She hoped he would but thought it unlikely. Part of her job was to be aware of their home situations, too, but officially, there was nothing she could do until he’d missed four classes. And since he wasn’t one to chat with her on a regular basis, she knew she’d never know the reason for his absence.

Stephanie smiled shyly as she took her seat. Lizzie was
pleased to see her there. Obviously, Molly’s talk did some good.

Last Wednesday’s assignment had been aimed at building their reading comprehension strategies. She’d asked them to read their chosen Rapid Reads novels and then answer a series of questions about ideas and themes, distinguishing between facts and opinions, and identifying cause-and-effect relationships. Tonight, the students would “grade” each other’s efforts, a task Lizzie hoped would draw them all into discussions as they challenged and defended answers.

Stephanie pulled Lizzie aside at the break. “I’m sorry, Lizzie, but I’m going to head on home right now. I’m right sorry for missing the rest of the class.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Lizzie said, putting her hand on Stephanie’s arm. “Are you feeling all right?”

Stephanie looked a bit uncomfortable. “Yes’m, it’s just that I don’t like walking home alone after dark. That’s all. I’m sorry.”

“I should have thought about that. Look, I can easily drive you home, if you’d like.”

Stephanie shook her head. “No, not tonight, thanks. I’ve already gotten my mind on going home right now. Sorry.

“Maybe next time, okay?” Stephanie added softly.

“Sure,” Lizzie answered. She had the feeling as welcoming as a ride would be to Stephanie, it would also mean close quarters, giving Lizzie another chance to question her.

On her way home, Lizzie thought again about the manuscript. Not knowing who had written it was driving her nuts. And what was she supposed to do with it, she wondered. Since she hadn’t been asked to critique or edit it, she’d done only a little bit of both. She had tried to make sense of it, but with little success.