Secrets Can Be Deadly (12 page)

3
3
Wednesday, August 8, 1979
(Sam)

T
he Light Night Motel stood next to the abandoned
diner on an otherwise barren strip of service road on the outskirts of Dysart. My room number—lucky thirteen.
In the top drawer of the nightstand was a telephone book. I looked for
Ponder
and found Rural Route 2 listed as the address. I’d go to the local library and get
a map. Maybe someone there could give me directions.

I stopped at the front desk and asked
how to get to the library. The same man from the night before was still behind the counter. White tank top, snake tattoo, greasy hair.

“Take
a left out of the parking lot. Turn right at the stop light. Library’s on the right a couple blocks up.” His teeth were crooked and yellow. He barely looked at me as he watched television.

“Thank you.” I’m not even sure he heard me.

I walked up the stairs to the library’s front door. Straight ahead was a large counter. To the right, several children
sat at a table. A young woman was reading aloud.

Behind the counter, a gray haired
woman, round glasses said, “Can I help you?”

“I hope so. My aunt and uncle live in the country. Do you know Mae and Kenneth Ponder?”

“They have a big acreage a couple miles south of town. I play cards with Mae once a month. Lovely place. Let me get you a map.”

She
used a highlighter to mark the route. “Tell Mae that Bridget says hello.”

My timing was perfect. I was almost to their driveway when I saw a man and woman get in a tan Buick Skylark and back out of the garage. They couldn’t see me or my plan wouldn’t work. Half a mile up the road, I parked the car.

It always amazes me that folks in the country never lock their doors. I
checked out the layout of the house, then went outside and waited.

The sun had set by the time Kenneth and Mae Ponder pulled into the gravel driveway. I listened as the garage door went up. As soon as I heard footsteps, I ran from behind the garage.

I was breathing heavily. “Can you help me, please?” I took a few deep breaths and swallowed hard. “I stopped to let my dog out for a potty break. The leash broke and he ran away.” I
held up a frayed leash. “His name’s Blacky. Black lab. Saw him run up your driveway five minutes ago. I have to find him!”

“I’ll get the flashlight and look to the east. Mae, you take the groceries inside. And you
—what’s your name?” Kenneth asked.

“Sam.”

“Sam, you head west, toward the barn.” He pointed.

“Thank you so much.
Sorry for the trouble.”

“Kenneth will find your dog
,” Mae said. “I’ll turn on the yard lights.”

My plan was working perfectly. I watched Kenneth
walk past the house toward the machine shed. When Mae walked to the garage for the last bags of groceries, I slipped inside, hid under the bed in the small bedroom.

T
en minutes passed before I heard Kenneth walk into the house.

“Have you seen Sam or the dog?” Kenneth asked.

“No. Been busy putting away groceries. Guess Sam found the dog.”

“Could
’ve knocked and told us.” Kenneth raised his voice. “I should’ve been helping you carry in the groceries.”

“I’m fine. Go fix yourself a drink and relax. The news will be on
soon.”

L
iars and drinkers, I thought. I listened to their chatter and the news. Someone turned the TV off. I heard footsteps, muffled sounds, silence. I waited an hour to make sure they were both sound asleep.

At eleven-thirty, I slowly crawled out from under the bed. I reached in my pocket,
pulled out a vial of morphine and two needles, prepared the overdoses. I slipped off my shoes and walked to the next room in my socks.

I wasn’t sure how many days it would be before someone found
them. People would think they fell asleep and never woke up. The paper would turn their deaths into a love story. I made sure it looked like they died peacefully in their sleep together.

I went through Kenneth’s wallet and Mae’s purse
, took some money. I looked through the closet and took
a couple of shirts. I pulled a grocery bag out of the garbage and filled it with bananas, oranges, and apples.

My plan was on schedule. O
ne more night in Dysart before moving on to my next target.

3
4
Friday, February 29, 1980 (Mason)

“Y
ou look like crap,” George said. “Sure you’re not sick?”

“Didn’t sleep well. Leaky faucet
.” It was the best lie Mason could come up with.

“Guess you’ll be doing some home improvement this weekend
.”

“Yeah. The joys of home ownership.”

Mason watched Georgette walk up to his desk. “I found this on my desk. Someone must have dropped it off when I got coffee.” Georgette handed an envelope to Mason.

officer pierce
. Mason quickly got out of his chair and walked out the front door. He stood on the sidewalk looking up and down the street. He didn’t see anyone.

“Georgette, are you sure this note was left this morning?”
Mason asked.

“I organize my desk every morning when I get to work.
Wasn’t there when I first arrived. What’s got you so huffy?”

“Sorry. Has to do with a case I’m working on.”

“You sure you’re okay? You don’t look very good.”

Mason
wanted to scream
I feel fine
. “Didn’t sleep well. Leaky faucet.”

“My dad’s a plumber. In case you need someone to fix it for you.”

“Thanks. I think I can handle it.”

“Okay.” Georgette turned and started typing.

Mason went back to his desk and opened the envelope.

d
id you enjoy your honey chicken
?

3
5
Thursday, August 9, 1979 (Sam)

B
irds chirped outside the window. It was six o’clock and I hadn’t gotten much sleep. I grabbed the other pillow, covered my ears, tried to fall back asleep. The birds kept chirping. Apparently, they didn’t think I needed sleep. Checkout wasn’t until noon. I had six hours to figure out where I was going next.

I propped the pillows against the headboard and read yesterday’s newspaper.
No mention of Harold or Connie Riley. Kenneth or Mae Ponder’s names wouldn’t be in the paper yet. I suspected it would be a few days before anyone found them. Reading the obituaries was a habit I picked up from Grandmother. She always said she had to read the obituaries to make sure her name wasn’t listed.

The map of Iowa
lay open on the bed. I wasn’t sure where to go. I needed to get a job and have a stable life for a while before killing my next lying family member. I flipped a quarter above the map. Estherville—my next destination.

The drive
would take about four hours. Once I arrived in Estherville, I’d go to the library and ask them if they knew of any job openings, places to stay. I was hoping they were as friendly as the librarian had been in Dysart.

36
Saturday, March 1, 1980 (Mason)

“
M
ason, wake up! Are you okay?” Sophia shook Mason’s arm.

“What?”
Mason yawned. “Why are you here?”

“You scared me.”
A tear ran down her face. “You didn’t answer the phone last night or this morning. I thought that crazy mystery man hurt you. What happened? Why are you on the couch?”

“Quiet voice
, please.” Mason’s head was throbbing. “I’m fine. I’m sorry. What time is it?”

“It’s eleven
.”

“
Oh, man.” Mason sat on the edge of the couch. “I found out some disturbing things this week, and took the pain away with a few beers.”

“Don’t ever do that to me again.” Sophia sat on
the couch, gave Mason a big hug. “I imagined the worst.”

Mason held her tight. “Don’t cry sweetheart. It’s okay.”

Sophia stood. She grabbed a tissue from her purse and wiped away her tears. “I was so worried about you.”

“Please forgive me. Let me
take a shower, then we’ll talk.”

“
Ruth and I have lunch plans, dress shopping for the spring festival. I’ll bring Chinese for dinner. You can tell me your story then. How does seven sound?”

“That
’d be great.”

Before
Sophia walked out the door, she turned to Mason and said, “I’m glad you’re okay. I love you, sweetie.”

Mason
sat on the couch and surveyed the mess. Beer cans scattered on the coffee table, kitchen counter, living room floor. One of the living room chairs was out of place. Moved in front of the end table. His research papers neatly stacked in the chair.

When h
e stood up, the room swirled. He noticed a picture of his dad and him from a camping trip two years ago. The chair blocked his view of the picture. He wondered why he didn’t just move the picture. But, he realized men don’t always make smart decisions when they’ve been drinking.

He thought about
Sophia, realized he’d have been furious had Sophia not returned his calls.

Mason
went to the bedroom and set his alarm for three. He needed more sleep before he could deal with the mess, talk to Sophia. He had some explaining to do.

The phone woke Mason. 2:55. He turned off the alarm.

“Did you just wake up?”
Carl asked.

“Y
eah. Drank too much last night and I’m seeing Sophia later so I needed some rest.”

“Well, at least
your
love life is going okay. I haven’t heard from Katrina in three days.”

“Three whole days. Really? You want me to put
out an APB?”

“I thought you said you couldn’t do personal favors?”

“I’m kidding.” Mason slapped his hand on his head. “You need to get a grip, Carl. This woman is driving you crazy. You need to cut her loose.”

“I
have
been acting a little goofy lately, haven’t I?”

“Just a tad. We’ve all been there.”

“She was just so interested in me, my friends.”

“Look,
Carl. I tell you what. Give her an ultimatum. Next time you talk, tell her you want her to meet your friends, in person. If she gives you another reason why she can’t, then end it. Have I ever given you bad advice?”

“
In junior high you told me Karen Dickens liked me. I made a fool of myself when I asked her to the winter dance.”

“
Sorry, buddy. It was funny in seventh grade.”

“I still need to get you back for that.”

“Yeah, whatever. Look, I gotta get ready for my date. When Katrina calls, you tell her your next date is with all your friends. After the conversation you’ll either have a girlfriend or you won’t.”

“Okay. Catch you later.”

“Are we having a
n indoor picnic?” Mason asked.

“It was easier to carry everything
in the picnic basket. Pretty soon we can have a picnic by the lake.” Sophia put the basket on the counter then wrapped her arms around Mason. “You look a lot better than you did this morning. Let’s eat first. You can tell me what made you drink later.”

Mason
helped Sophia unpack the basket. She’d picked up two eggrolls, egg drop soup, spicy shrimp, and vegetable fried rice from China Buffet. For dessert, a strawberry cake.

Sophia
talked about her day with Ruth, said she’d found the perfect dress for the spring festival. Mason made a mental note that he’d have to get a suit cleaned.

“You’r
e the best. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” Mason winked at Sophia. For the first time he thought about proposing. Maybe he would at the spring festival.

“You’d
have a messy house, for one thing.” Sophia laughed. “Let’s clean up the dishes. I want to hear what happened.”

Mason sat next to Sophia on the couch. He took her hands and held them tight. He explained the note he’d gotten at the police station and the phone call with Abigail.

“Oh
, sweetheart. I’m so sorry. Do you think your sister is still alive?”

“I’v
e no idea. I don’t even know how I’d track her if she
were
alive.”

“You’ll figure it out. We’ll figure it out. I’m here to help any way I can.”

“I appreciate that.” Mason sighed. “I can’t believe my dad lied to me all these years.”

“How are you feeling?”

“I’m conflicted. I love my dad. But right now I feel betrayed. I’m not sure if I’ll ever be able to trust him. There are so many thoughts running through my mind.”

“Just know you can talk to me about anything. I’m here to help you get through this.”

“I keep thinking it’s odd that my grandmother died in her sleep, just like the Ponders. I don’t think it’s hereditary. I think those people were murdered.”