Read Read and Buried Online

Authors: Erika Chase

Read and Buried (10 page)

Chapter Fifteen

Mum’s the word. Silence is golden.

SKETCH ME IF YOU CAN
—SHARON PAPE

S
ally-Jo had snagged a corner booth on the far right side of Southside Jack’s on Hooper
Street. Lizzie glanced around as she made her way over. Nobody she knew in the small
and almost full restaurant. It was a popular place with the older crowd, its menu
of traditional Southern food and the muted beige and orange décor welcoming diners
who like to have some conversation with their meal. It seemed surprisingly full for
a Monday night.

She slid in across from Sally-Jo and paused long enough to take a good look at her
friend. “How are you doing? You sounded harassed on the phone.”

Sally-Jo grabbed a menu and scanned it as she spoke. “I feel like I’m hanging around,
waiting for the proverbial other shoe to drop. Officer Frigging Craig laid it on real
thick. She thinks Derek ditched me and I wanted revenge, so I killed him. Never mind
it’s twelve years later. She’s trying to track down old college pals to get their
version. I hate to have this all dragged up again.”

“Is she likely to find someone who knew all about it and will verify your side of
the story?”

“I didn’t have any close friends. This was my freshman year, after all, and most of
my friends from high school went to Miami State instead. I wasn’t lonely. There was
always someone to hang out with, but even my roommate had no idea what was going on.
I made sure of that.” She sighed.

“Well, I guess we’ll just have to try to figure out who the murderer is, in that case,”
Lizzie said, reaching out to squeeze Sally-Jo’s arm.

“Easier said, I’d think.”

“Maybe, but we’ll try. We need to find who in Ashton Corners Derek came to see.”

They paused to give their orders to the server, spicy mango shrimp on coconut-lime
rice for Lizzie and tuna cakes for Sally-Jo.

When he’d left, Sally-Jo asked, “Where do we start? You don’t have any idea, do you?”

“I’ve already talked to Jensey Pollard and she didn’t know. However, I’ve been thinking.
I had emails from two people who said they’d heard Derek was coming to the book club
and asked if they could come also.”

“Really? How did they know about it?”

“Apparently Jensey Pollard posted it on the Book Bin Facebook page.”

“So, who are these anonymous book lovers?”

“One is Xenia Henshaw. I’ve not met her, although I’ve seen her name on enough Realtor
signs in the city. She works for Corners Realty, so is easy to track down. The other
is someone named Calvin Knox. He said he’s from River’s End. He obviously heard about
the murder, because he didn’t show up. I’ll email him and ask for his phone number
so we can talk.”

“If he’s the killer, he won’t want you to contact him.”

“If he’s the killer, I’d bet he also used a hard-to-track email address. I could just
look in the phone book for a listing. But if he’s the murderer, that’s probably not
even his real name.”

Sally-Jo sighed again.

“But that’s good, Sally-Jo. If he’s trying to remain anonymous, it’s because he’s
hiding something. And that bumps him to the top of the suspect list, I’d say. We just
have to figure out how to find him.”

Their food arrived and they dug in, silent for some time. Sally-Jo finally spoke.

“You know Ellen Germain who teaches fifth grade? We went to the same college. She
was a couple of years behind me and I didn’t know her at the time. I came across her
picture a few months ago in a program I’d kept from one of the drama club plays. She
was just as surprised I’d been there when I told her, so I guess she wouldn’t make
a good witness for me. Forget I even brought it up.”

“I wonder if she knew Derek Alton. Or better yet, his reputation?”

“I’m not about to ask her.”

“But I can.”

* * *

L
izzie watched the faces of her literacy students as they read over the essay homework
she handed back to them. She was pleased to see that Stephanie felt well enough to
join them for the final class of the session. Jolene scanned the pages, read the comments
on the back and then grinned, looking around at the others.

Sonny took much longer but by the end of the comment page, he, too, was smiling, or
what amounted to a smile for him. Stephanie had lost that tense, pinched look she’d
entered the room with. She looked pleased with her comments, as well, while Melanie
looked sullen but not surprised. Lizzie guessed she’d realized the GEDs were still
out of her grasp and there was a lot more work to do. Would she be willing to carry
on, was the question.

“This is the last class before Christmas,” Lizzie said. “I think it’s been a very
productive session and I’m hoping you feel the same way, too. First class in the New
Year will be on the first Monday.” She’d given Jolene back her manuscript during the
break. She just hoped her comments would be useful. She’d wanted to be encouraging
as well. Hopefully Jolene would see it that way.

Jolene’s hand shot up, surprising Lizzie. “We all”—she looked at the others one by
one as they nodded, and she continued—“want to thank you and we have a Christmas present
for you.” She dug into her bag and pulled out a box, wrapped in bright red and green.
She also produced a card in an envelope as she stood and walked over to Lizzie.

“Why, thank you. That’s really very thoughtful,” Lizzie said, accepting the gift and
trying not to tear up. “May I open it now?”

“Oh yes . . . right now. We can’t wait to see if you like it,” Jolene said. She was
almost as excited as if someone had given her the gift.

Lizzie grinned and pulled the wrapping paper off, then carefully opened the box. Inside
was a set of bookends—two books carved in wood with a heavier metal base.

“This is wonderful,” she said, knowing her eyes glistened. “Thank you. It means a
lot to me.” She cleared her throat.

“Sonny made them in woodworking class,” Jolene announced, as proud as if she’d taught
him.

“Wow, Sonny. They’re amazing,” Lizzie said.

Sonny sat back in his chair, shifting his weight to his left side, and slid his right
leg forward feigning nonchalance. “Aw, it’s nothing, Miss. I found that cherrywood
at the dump.”

Jolene gasped.

“No, really. I cleaned it up real good.”

“Well, it looks great and I know just where I’ll place them. Thank you. Now, class
is over. Have a wonderful Christmas and see you in the New Year.”

Jolene and Stephanie gave her a hug as they filed out of the room. Melanie waved in
an offhanded way. Sonny hung back and stuck out his hand for a shake. “Uh, like, thanks,”
he said.

Lizzie nodded and watched him saunter toward the front door. A few minutes later she
followed, after saying good night to Molly, who had donned a white linen caftan, white
sandals and numerous strands of colorful beads for the evening. Sally-Jo had already
left with Jacob, who was giving Stephanie a ride home, too.

Lizzie pulled the bookends out of the box when she arrived home and set them up on
one of the shelves of the bookcase. Then, too pumped to consider bed, she refilled
the cat’s dishes, walked upstairs, turned on the computer and went directly to her
email.

She pulled up the original email from Xenia Henshaw and then checked in the phone
directory for a number. Easy. Then she reread the one from Calvin Knox and, after
some consideration, sent him an email asking for a phone number. She also called directory
assistance, doubting they’d give her a number without an address, and she was right.
She trolled the Internet for a while, trying different combinations of names and sites,
but eventually gave up. After another check of her email, with no responses from either
person, she turned her computer off and headed to bed.

There had to be another way.

Chapter Sixteen

If all the things I don’t know were laid out end to end . . .

THE THIN MAN
—DASHIELL HAMMETT

L
izzie tried to shake the feeling of utter frustration that had gripped her since checking
her email in the morning before heading to work. No replies from either Xenia Henshaw
or Calvin Knox. She tried to convince herself that neither of them had checked their
email yet this morning and that she’d have answers tonight. But what she really thought
was that both of them wanted to remain at arm’s length. Who wouldn’t, when someone
had been murdered?

Now, seated at Vanda Striker’s desk, she tried to clear her brain of anything murder-related
and focus on the two upcoming meetings with parents. She’d booked the vice principal’s
office until noon but doubted they would take that long.

Her first appointment, with parents of a fifth-grade student, started with her outlining
the testing that she’d done and the conclusion that he needed some serious remedial
work. She braced herself for the usual response of denial ending with pleading and
was pleasantly surprised when they were in total agreement with her assessment and
suggested plan of action. The meeting wrapped up with Lizzie promising to send them
her report, along with a suggested contact, before the Christmas break.

The second appointment proved to be a total contrast. Ten-year-old Michele’s parents
were adamant that their daughter did not have a reading comprehension problem and
they rejected Lizzie’s suggestion for extra help. Her only option was to leave the
matter with them to mull over, then hold a follow-up meeting early in the new term
and include the principal in the conversation.

She felt frustrated when she wandered into the staff room, her brown-bag lunch of
tuna salad wrap in her hand. A group of eight teachers sat around the largest table
and waved her over. They were in a jovial mood, the upcoming Christmas break on their
minds, and she felt her tension easing as she settled in.

Ken Wicks, a sixth-grade teacher, plopped himself on the chair next to her as she
unwrapped her meal. “How you doing, Lizzie? That was quite the scare you must have
had last week.” Concern was etched on his face, along with the many lines accumulated
in his fifty-six years.

“I’m doing all right, Ken. Thanks.”

“That was such a shocking thing to happen, especially in Ashton Corners. Not what
you think about, that’s for sure.”

Lizzie nodded her agreement. “I just wish I knew why it happened and who he was visiting
in town.”

Ken looked at her questioningly. “Well, I thought he was here to speak to your book
club. That’s what Jensey Pollard said, anyway.”

Lizzie didn’t even try to hide her surprise. “She said that? It was Jensey who introduced
us in her store and she suggested he speak at the next meeting. We weren’t the reason
he came to town.”

“Well then, it could be almost anybody, couldn’t it? That’s important?”

“Probably. But only if he knew someone here.”

“Well, why wouldn’t he? He used to live here, after all.”

Lizzie’s mouth dropped open. “You’re kidding. Are you sure? When was this?”

“Oh, I don’t rightly recall. Maybe twenty-five years ago, or so. Could be less or
even more. Huh, there’s the bell. Well, you take care of yourself, you hear?”

Lizzie nodded absently. Derek Alton actually lived in Ashton Corners? Why had no one
else mentioned it? She’d have to talk to Ken again and get more details. But for now,
she had a presentation to make at the school board offices downtown.

* * *

S
he checked her email again as soon as she’d fed the cats. Her own supper could wait.
Xenia Henshaw had responded and suggested Lizzie stop by her office the next day.
Lizzie replied suggesting three thirty
P.M.
and received an almost immediate response confirming the time. Nothing from Calvin
Knox. That was frustrating. How would she track him down?

She pondered her dilemma as she took a package of chicken strips out of the freezer
and stuck it in the microwave to thaw. Next she scanned the vegetable selection and
pulled out some sugar peas, red pepper and broccoli, thinking a stir-fry would taste
great. Again.

She poured a glass of Shiraz when the food was ready and sat down to try to enjoy
the meal, without thinking about the predicament. No luck. Her mind kept wandering
to the elusive Calvin Knox and who he was and where he was.

A knock on her kitchen door broke into her reveries. She opened it to Nathaniel holding
two small measuring cups.

“I’m terribly sorry to bother you, Lizzie, but I’m in need of one teaspoon of turmeric
and two of cumin seeds. You wouldn’t happen to have any, would you? I’m trying to
make a lentil curry.” He glanced at the table. “I’m terribly sorry to disturb your
meal.”

“No problem. That’s adventuresome of you. And I do have both.” She measured out what
he needed. “This is quite a change of menu for you, Nathaniel.”

He grunted. “Thanks, Lizzie. I would have hated to have to run down to the store.
I should have checked my supplies first.” He paused with his hand on the doorknob.
“Is everything all right with you?”

Lizzie nodded. “It is, although I’m totally frustrated trying to figure out who Derek
Alton knew in town. And now one of the teachers said that Derek used to live here
about twenty-five years ago. Does that bring anything to mind?”

Nathaniel thought it over a moment. “No. The name still doesn’t ring a bell, and I
can’t offhand think of anything that might have happened that would make him stand
out. Not in my mind, anyway. I’m sorry, my dear.”

“Huh. I’ll have to ask Ken for more details.”

“Well, I’ll let you get on with your evening. Thank you, again.” Nathaniel pulled
the door closed behind him and ambled past the window toward the front sidewalk.

Lizzie finished eating, thinking about how odd a dish that was for Nathaniel to be
cooking. Then her thoughts wandered over to Mark, who hadn’t made contact with her
since canceling their date on Saturday. Was he still upset with her or just too involved
in the investigation? She wanted to find out but hesitated phoning him. But if he
didn’t know about Derek having lived in Ashton Corners, he would want to.

With that rationalization, Lizzie picked up the phone and punched in Mark’s home number.
She hung up after four rings, just before it went to the message. Then she called
the police station and asked for him, only to be told that the chief had left for
the day. Totally frustrated, she declined to leave a message and pulled out the phone
directory to search for Ken Wicks’s number. Trouble was, there were three entries
with that name and four K. Wicks listings. She decided to wait until the next day
and talk to him at school.

* * *

B
y the time she had pulled into the staff parking lot, Lizzie had convinced herself
that it would probably be better to talk to Ken again before telling Mark. He might
be more grateful if she had more information to present as a sort of peace offering.

She’d gone in half an hour early, hoping Ken might have done the same. However, he
wasn’t in his room or the staff room. At lunch, she stopped in the main office to
check her mail slot and glanced at the staff bulletin board. Ken Wicks was listed
as having taken extra holidays and wouldn’t be back until the school term began in
January.

Lizzie waited until the secretary, Betsey, had finished her phone conversation, and
then walked to her desk.

“Betsey, do you think I could get Ken’s phone number? I didn’t realize he was going
to be off for so long and I need to speak to him.”

“Sure thing. Yeah, poor guy, his mama’s booked in for a gallbladder operation and
he’s going to stay with her while she recovers some. She’s in her late eighties, you
know. Spunky woman. I hope she’ll be all right.” She brought up a file on her computer
and made a notation on a notepad, handing the paper to Lizzie. “Here’s his number
but I think you’ve missed him. His mama lives in Tucson and he was to have left this
morning.”

Lizzie sighed. There went that lead. But if Ken knew, others must also know. The question
was, who? What did she know about Ken? Who were his friends? She headed down the hall
to the staff room. Maybe someone in there could answer her questions. But the afternoon
bell rang before she opened the door. She’d have to follow through later, but not
after school because she had an appointment with Xenia Henshaw.

Still frustrated and not having anything scheduled for the remainder of the school
day, she went to the library and worked on a purchase order for some new workbooks
she wanted for the winter term. She’d already stretched her budget at the beginning
of the school year but what with the mixture of problems she’d discovered in the fall,
she really needed to expand the diversity of materials to use with the students. She
went online and ordered, from her city budget for the literacy program, some more
Rapid Reads from the Canadian distributor. She’d first come across them at an education
conference last summer and found they’d been a big hit. The mysteries by some well-known
writers were aimed at reluctant readers, and her students had given them the seal
of approval.

She glanced at the old-fashioned school board clock hanging on the opposite wall.
Still an hour until her appointment in town. She’d go now and stop in to see Mark
to tell him about Ken’s comment, and leave the rest of the tracking to him. She’d
also neglected to fill him in about Xenia Henshaw and Calvin Knox. Now was as good
a time as any, but he really didn’t need to know about her appointment with Xenia.

She noticed Mark’s black Jeep in the parking lot but no cruisers. So maybe he wasn’t
around. She didn’t know if that would be good or bad. Of course it would be bad. She
had information to give him, after all.
Stop being such a wuss.
She entered through the front door and spotted Officer Don Yost at the counter. She
tried to peer around him to Mark’s office but couldn’t see inside it.

“I’d like to speak to Chief Dreyfus, if he has a moment, please.”

Officer Yost glanced up from the official-looking documents he was reading. “Uh, actually,
he’s on a call, ma’am. Would you like to leave him a note?” He pushed a notepad and
pen across the counter toward her.

She hemmed and hawed. No. “Thanks, but I’ll try to call later.”

“All right. You have a nice day now, you hear?” He went back to his papers.

“You also,” she said, already at the door.
Now what?
She glanced at the dashboard clock. Still over forty-five minutes until her meeting
with Xenia Henshaw. She sat in her car a few minutes trying to decide then headed
to Mark’s house. Just in case.

A cruiser sat parked in his driveway. She spotted Mark walking Patchett, his six-month-old
bloodhound pup, along the sidewalk from the far end of the street. He appeared to
hesitate when he noticed her, then Patchett starting pulling at the leash. Lizzie
stayed put until they reached her. Patchett tried to jump up in greeting but Mark
held him firmly in place.

“Hey, Lizzie.”

She couldn’t read anything into his greeting and with the sun shining in her eyes,
couldn’t really see his expression. She felt a deep sadness and realized she’d been
hoping for a hug.

“Hey, Mark. I thought you should know, I had emails from two people who had heard
about Alton being at the book club and they asked if they could attend that meeting.
One was Xenia Henshaw and the other someone named Calvin Knox. I don’t know either
of them, though, and I never heard back from them.”

“Was that unusual?”

“It’s not like we advertise our meetings, but Jensey Pollard had posted it on her
store’s Facebook page.”

“Why did you wait till now to tell me?”

Duh. “Well, I guess I wasn’t thinking clearly after the murder. And it’s not as if
I’ve seen a lot of you since then.”

Mark’s mouth twitched. “Will you forward their email addresses to me, please?”

“Uh-huh. Also, I was talking to Ken Wicks, he’s a sixth-grade teacher at the school,
in the staff room yesterday and he said that Derek Alton used to live here about twenty-five
years ago.”

Mark looked suddenly interested. “He said that? He knew Derek at the time? I haven’t
found anyone else who admits that. Is Wicks at the school right now?”

“No, he’s visiting his sick mama in Tucson and won’t be back until the New Year. I
thought I’d check with some of the other teachers who have known Ken for a long time.
Maybe they knew of Derek also.”

Mark eyed her a moment before speaking. “I’ll take care of that, thanks. I’d like
you to stay out of this investigation.”

“Why? You’ve already asked me to help get Sally-Jo to talk. How different is that
from me asking around the staff room?” She realized she was standing in an aggressive
pose, arms crossed over her chest, feet apart.

A frown flickered across his face. “It’s one thing to have you speak to your friend,
quite another to have you poking around in the life of the murder victim.”

Lizzie started chewing her lower lip as he spoke. “I think you’re being unreasonable.
In fact, I think you’re being pigheaded about a lot of things to do with this case.”
With that, she stalked over to her car, got in without a backward glance at him and
drove off.

Dumb, dumb, dumb
. She wished she could take it all back. She hadn’t planned on a confrontation but
she’d been upset about him for over a week now. She should have done some shopping
while she waited to meet with Xenia Henshaw. Which was exactly what she’d do right
now.

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