A Killer Read (25 page)

L
izzie added a new worry to her insomnia mélange that night. Bob Miller had certainly been quiet after Lizzie finished reading. What was going on in his mind? And why did he want the manuscript? To read it, of course. Very plausible. But was there something in it that struck a chord with him? Or was she so desperate to find a meaning that she was attaching too much value to others’ actions?

And what about Jacob Smith? She’d totally forgotten the episode with the mystery woman until she’d seen him tonight. Of course, it wasn’t really any of her business. But she’d also seen the way he looked at Sally-Jo. He had feelings for her. And she knew it was mutual. She just didn’t want her friend to be hurt. Again. Especially since it was only last year, before she moved to Ashton Corners, that Sally-Jo had broken her lengthy engagement. From what she’d told Lizzie, that was the best thing she’d done in a long time, although it had taken his having an affair to force her decision. Two two-timers in a row would be two too many.

Lizzie managed a few hours’ sleep, a short run and a long shower. While she ate her breakfast, George Havers phoned.

“I managed to find Enid Telford for you,” he said without preamble.

Lizzie swallowed the last of her toast. “You did? I didn’t even know you were searching. Where did you find her?”

He chuckled. “Well, it sounded like you were in the middle of an intriguing story, and the newshound in me couldn’t let it pass. So I started digging. Seems she’s on her third husband now, although she may not know it. She’s living at the Shady Pines Nursing Home in Stoney Mills. I checked and that’s a private assisted-living facility specializing in patients with Alzheimer’s. And her name is Enid Hannaford these days.”

“That’s good work, George. I’m truly impressed and thank you for doing that.”

“I’m betting you’ll be wanting to talk to her, and I’m hoping that if this all comes together in an interesting story, you might let me in on it.”

“Of course I will. And have you had any luck with tracking down the story my daddy was working on?”

“No. Nothing, I’m afraid. I may have a lead on an old colleague of his. I’ll try to get in touch and ask him, but it’s quite possible Monroe hadn’t told anyone what he was doing. You have to be prepared for that. A lot of the guys didn’t share leads in those days. Didn’t want anyone stealing their stories. Guess that’s just as true these days,” he added.

“Well, keep in touch. And thank you.” Alzheimer’s. Lizzie shuddered. If Enid Hannaford was like her mama, she wouldn’t be much help. She finished eating the last bit of toast. Maybe she could take a drive over to Stoney Mills this afternoon. Her schedule was free. She’d intended to work on a presentation she was planning for the next professional development day, but that could wait a bit longer. She wondered if Molly might like to go for the ride. A phone
call got her an affirmative answer. She promised to swing by and pick her up at one
P. M.

“N
ow, are you sure you’re wanting to be talking to this woman?” Molly asked for the third time as they pulled into the parking lot at the Shady Pines Nursing Home. “It might be upsetting, you know. I know how hard it is for you to visit your mama.”

Lizzie swallowed hard. “Thank you, Molly. But I’ll be fine. This needs to be done.” Lizzie wondered if Molly might be the one who would be upset. She really had no idea if seeing Evelyn Turner was a hardship for Molly. “Would you like to wait out in their garden? It looks lovely and it’s a perfect afternoon.”

“Now, I didn’t come all this way, although it was a pleasant drive, just to sit outside and look at a bunch of chrysanthemums, young lady.”

It had been a nice drive. They took old Highway 2, which wound its way lazily through the countryside, past some horse farms whose prosperity showed in the large, Southern-style homes, the ones with the large wraparound front porches and pillars, nestled far from the road but within viewing distance. Lizzie felt like a tourist every time she drove along this road. It was so easy to place herself in long-ago times, strolling along the lawn with perhaps a carriage coming up the driveway to call. She was torn between losing herself in the fantasy and preparing questions, if she were able to ask them.

She remembered the many Sunday drives her family had taken in her childhood. Her daddy had loved driving, and her mama packed the best picnic lunches of any of her friends’ mamas. And Mama had loved wide-brimmed straw hats with a scarf tied around, that matched the ankle-length dresses that flowed as she walked. Molly may have sensed those memories or been lost in her own. They rode along in
a companionable silence until just outside the town limits, when Molly had asked her question.

When they checked at the front desk, Lizzie had a moment’s regret that she may have been foolish in not phoning ahead. But the middle-aged woman at the desk didn’t seem to find it odd they’d just stopped in.

“Why, Mr. Hannaford is here visiting her, too. Do y’all know him? She’s in fine spirits today, and I know she loves company when she’s like that.” The receptionist rang down to the room and a few minutes later told them that Mr. Hannaford would meet them in the hall outside room 20. They found their way to him and introduced themselves.

Hannaford showed his years in his stooped back and deeply lined face. He wore a camel-colored sports jacket, white shirt, plaid tie and brown pants. Tasseled brown loafers completed the debonair look. Lizzie wondered if he, like she, took special care in what he wore when visiting his wife. Or if this was his usual attire. His smile was engaging as he pumped their hands and looked up at their faces. “My wife is very talkative today.”

Lizzie let out the breath she’d been holding. Not like her mama then.

“However,” he went on, “she doesn’t always know where she is. It’s like her mind just flits around in the universe of time and, if we’re lucky, it will join us for a portion of its journey.” He smiled sadly. “I’ve grown used to it, so I try to take great sustenance from those moments when she’s back here with me.”

Lizzie found herself sharing with him her own experiences visiting her mama. He nodded sadly. “That would be truly difficult on a person.” He reached over and squeezed her hand. “Now, how do you know Enid?”

“Oh, we don’t know her, but”—Lizzie looked quickly at Molly—“it’s about her first husband, Frank Telford. We were just hoping to get a bit of information about him.”

Hannaford looked puzzled. “Oh, I didn’t know him at all, and she hasn’t talked to me about him. I’m not sure if you’ll get anything from her. What’s it about?”

“Well, he died about three weeks ago,” Lizzie said. Hannaford looked surprised.

“Yes,” Molly jumped in. “He was murdered in front of my house.”

“Oh my.” Hannaford let out a small whistle. “How disturbing for you. Did they catch who did it?”

“No,” Lizzie told him. “Not yet. I hope it won’t disturb your wife if we talk to her. We won’t mention his death if you think that’s best.”

He scratched his head. “I rightly don’t know what to say. Let’s just see where she’s at and then play it by ear. If I think she’s getting agitated, I’ll just change the subject, all right?”

“Fair enough.”

He led the way into a brightly decorated room with large windows overlooking a courtyard, complete with bubbling water feature. “Enid loves looking at the fountain,” Hannaford told them, as he ushered them to the two tub chairs near the window.

“Enid, dearest,” he said loudly. She turned from the fountain, and her face lit when she saw her two guests. “These ladies are Lizzie and Molly, and they’re here to have a visit with you. Isn’t that nice?”

“Oh my, yes. I love entertaining, don’t I, Michael?”

Hannaford looked a bit pinched as he sat on the bed. Lizzie wondered where to start. Maybe niceties about the weather.

Enid made the decision for her. “Were you at that big dinner party we gave last spring? You look so familiar,” she said to Molly.

“No, dear,” Molly answered. “I missed that one, but I’ll bet it was a dandy.”

“Oh, yes,” Enid said and clapped her hands like a little girl. She looked back at the fountain and fell silent.

Hannaford asked, “Enid, dearest, would you like some tea? Maybe your guests would like some, too?”

Enid turned to him slowly. “Why, I think that would be lovely, Jack. You two will join me, won’t you?”

Lizzie and Molly accepted, and Hannaford shuffled down the hall to arrange it. Lizzie wondered if it was Jack or Michael doing the ordering. This seemed as good a time as any to start questioning her.

“Ms. Hannaford, we were hoping you might tell us a bit about your first husband, Frank Telford?”

Enid stared at her so long, Lizzie was certain they’d lost her. Finally she spoke in a soft voice. “I barely think about him at all. I don’t like to remember, you see.” Lizzie saw the pain in her eyes and decided not to push it.

“But you’re happy here?”

“Oh, yes. They’re good to me and as you see, I have a very thoughtful husband. Yes, Jack is very thoughtful. Frank… Frank was thoughtful, too, at first until… it was so unfortunate… I left him.” It took a few minutes before she started talking again. “Do tell me what you’re planning to wear to the New Year’s Gala this year? I hear they’re hiring a big band from Birmingham and all the tickets are already sold out. Dear me, I haven’t a thing to wear. I’m hoping to get to the city any day now and choose a new gown.”

Molly and Lizzie exchanged a look just as Hannaford reappeared. He looked at them, then at Enid. “Oh, oh… she’s gone, is she?”

Lizzie nodded. A knock at the door preceded a nurse’s aide pushing a trolley into the room. She efficiently set up the tea and plate of cookies on the small round table that sat between them all, then left.

Hannaford handed a glass of iced tea to his wife. “Tea, Enid?”

She smiled. “Why thank you, Michael. I do so love a glass of iced tea after an afternoon’s ride. Now, what did you say your name was?” she asked Lizzie.

“Elizabeth Turner.”

“Lovely name. My best girlfriend in grade school was named Elizabeth. Elizabeth Tyson. Why, the same initials as you, dear.” She giggled, then looked at Molly. “And you are?”

“Molly Mathews.” She passed the plate of cookies to Enid and Lizzie, then took one for herself.

Enid ate hers in silence. Hannaford refused a cookie but drank thirstily from his glass. “Where did you say you ladies are from?” he asked.

“We’re from Ashton Corners,” Molly answered.

“That’s a nice drive. Did you come along the old 2?”

Lizzie nodded but she kept watching Enid. Her face gave away that her mind was working at something.

“I don’t usually go too far these days,” Mr. Hannaford said. “Our house is close to here, so I just take a taxi. Gave up driving a long time ago.”

“Claydon was here one day,” Enid said.

Molly almost dropped her glass. “What? Who did you say? Claydon? Claydon Mathews?”

Enid ignored her. “And that nice young man, Jefferson. Jefferson Perkins. Ohh, my. Oh, I’d better hurry and get ready or I’ll be late for the dance. Mama doesn’t like me to keep my young man waiting, you know.” She tried to push herself up out of her chair and knocked over her glass. “Oh, I’ve got to hurry.”

Hannaford got to her and took her hands in his, shushing her and leading her over to the bed. Lizzie picked up the glass and used the napkins as best she could to mop up the mess.

“Just leave that, I’ll have someone take care of it,” he said to them. “I think maybe you’d better leave now, though. I think she needs to rest.”

“Yes, we’ll go. I’m sorry if we’ve upset her, Mr. Hannaford,” Lizzie said. “I’ll mention at the desk that this needs to be cleaned up.”

He smiled gratefully at them, and they left quickly. Back in the car, it took awhile before Molly finally spoke. “Now what in heaven’s name was she talking about? And how on God’s earth did she know Claydon?”

L
izzie let Molly off at her house, after seemingly setting her mind at ease. She pointed out that Enid hadn’t said Claydon’s last name and there must be many going by that name in the county. And she’d been flitting between men’s names all the time. Molly finally agreed and was back in good humor, thinking about the treats she’d be setting out for the literacy classes that night.

When Lizzie got home, though, she went straight to her computer and did a search for Jefferson Perkins. She’d tried to ease Molly’s anxiety, but she thought it was just one too many coincidences. There were only a couple of references. One listed him, along with two others, as a stockholder in an unnamed land development company in the county. The second was a short obituary in the
Weekly Post
, the local newspaper in Stoney Mills. She copied down the date of Perkins’s death as well as the names of the other two men. She searched on the latter, and both men showed up as
deceased, although long before Frank Telford. She shut down the computer in disgust. She felt no further ahead. And there’d been no mention of Claydon Mathews in any of the articles.