“Honestly, I don’t think so. I don’t like to vouch for a lot of people, but I don’t think he could kill someone.”
“So what was his deal? Why was he stealing?”
“Heroin,” Ms. Pryor said matter-of-factly. “Before he found religion, heroin was his god. And he’ll be the first to admit that.”
August thanked Ms. Pryor and then hung up. She looked at his mug shot again, his blue eyes staring back. Maybe he’s a believer now, but that doesn’t mean he was back then. If he’d been in the throes of addiction, there was no telling what state of mind he might have been in. The more she thought about it, the more August believed that she may have found her killer. Marshall had the means and at least half a motive; he had been a drug user, which widened the field of ‘reasonable’ behavior. She copied down his listed address and was getting ready to get up from her desk, when Nate Green from forensics stopped by.
“What’s up, Nate?”
“You’re not going to believe this, but the remains from this morning still had the clothes on.”
“Really? Good news, no?”
“Good and bad. The victim’s ID was in her pants.”
Nate handed August a driver’s license.
“Mia Matthews,” she read.
“Yeah, she was only seventeen.”
“Why does that name sound familiar?”
“She went missing about seven years ago. It was all over the news.” August looked at the ID, vaguely remembering the coverage. “Now you’ve got the awesome job of contacting her parents,” Nate added sarcastically. “We need dental records to confirm, okay?”
“Yeah, okay.”
As Nate left, August went back into the database and typed in ‘Mia Matthews’, finding the initial missing person’s report from September 2009. She looked back at the ID, and her heart sank a little. A seventeen-year-old girl had lost her life for God knew what reason. She looked back at the mug shot of Marshall Rubenstein and began to feel resentment fester. There were now two jobs at the top of her list: go and talk to Mia Matthews’ family, and find Marshall Rubenstein.
Chapter Five
The Matthews family lived across the county in Takoma Park, Maryland. The small city rested near the D.C./Maryland state line and was a mix of old-style Victorian and bungalow houses. August turned onto Sycamore Avenue and parked on the curb in front of a brown bungalow. She looked towards the home and saw a heavy-set woman sitting on a rocking chair under a covered front porch. When she got out of her car, the two smiled at each other.
“Morning,” August said.
“Good morning.”
“Are you Mrs. Matthews, by any chance?”
“I am. Can I help you?”
“My name is Detective Miller,” said August, raising her badge, “and I’m with the Montgomery County Police Department.” She stepped closer to the porch. “I was wondering if I could have a word with you.”
“Is this about my daughter, Detective?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Mrs. Matthews had been smiling, but when August said yes, her face turned pale and the smile vanished.
“You found her, didn’t you?”
“I believe so, ma’am.”
Mrs. Matthews motioned for August to sit in the rocking chair next to her.
“I knew one of you guys would show up, one day, because I knew in my heart that she was gone.” Her voice quivered and her breathing became heavy. “She never would have left on her own. She never would have left me.” Her eyes started tearing.
I’m sorry that I couldn’t come with better news.”
“At least now I can put her to rest.”
August reached out and took Mrs. Matthews’ hand. At that gesture, tears streamed down the broken-hearted mother’s face, and a moan erupted from deep inside. August moved from her seat and wrapped her arms around the grieving mother. She hugged her for several minutes, until Mrs. Matthews slowly moved away.
“I’m sorry. I made a mess of your shirt.”
“No worries,” August smiled. “It’s only a shirt.”
August moved back to her seat, but continued to hold on to Mrs. Matthews’ hands.
“I know this is tough, but do you know anyone who’d want to harm Mia?”
Mrs. Matthews’ shook her head.
“I’ve been asking myself that for the past seven years. Mia was a sweetheart. Everyone loved her.”
“Did she have a boyfriend?”
“No, not Mia. I didn’t allow her to date. I wanted her to concentrate on school, more than anything. Now, I’m not naïve. I know her and her friends talked about boys. But we had a close relationship, and I told her that if a boy was ever interested, we’d talk about it. So, Detective, if there was someone, I would have known about it.”
“Does the name ‘Marshall Rubenstein’ mean anything to you?”
“No. Was he the one that, that—”
“I don’t know,” August cut in. “Just someone I want to talk to.”
A moment of silence fell upon them.
“Do you want to see her room? I haven’t touched it in seven years, except for the occasional dusting.”
“I’d love to.”
Mrs. Matthews led August to a rear bedroom. It looked like any seventeen-year-old girl’s room. The walls were covered in a light pink, with posters of Justin Timberlake and Beyoncé. The closet was full of teenager-style clothes, and a white dresser had perfumes and other accessories on it.
“Can I get you anything to drink? Water? Juice?”
“No, thank you. I’m fine.”
“Well, if you don’t mind, I think I need something. Please take your time and look around.”
“Thank you.”
Mrs. Matthews left the room leaving August alone with Mia’s personal items and memories. She took in a deep breath and felt a sense of nostalgia as Mia’s room reminded her of her own when she was a teenager. On a mirror, Mia had taped pictures of herself with some of her girlfriends at various school settings. Her smile was vibrant and August sensed that Mia was a ball of energy at seventeen.
August slowly walked around the room looking at various things before taking a seat on Mia’s bed. A sense of personal sadness overcame her; perhaps it was seeing Mia’s pictures and meeting her mother, but August’s heart felt heavy for her mother’s loss. She’d heard it a number of times by grieving mothers that a parent should never have to bury their own child. She suddenly felt like she wanted to cry when she remembered hearing that expression from a mother whose voice sounded a lot like hers.
August took in another deep breath and steadied her emotions. She stood from the bed and wiped the moistness away from her eyes. She looked around the room one more time thinking that if she swapped the Justin Timberlake and Beyoncé posters for Michael Jackson and LL Cool J, this could have been her room twenty years ago. The sudden memory made her remember that when she was around Mia’s age, she kept a diary that she hid from her mother. The reasons may have been different, but August knew that a lot of teenaged girls kept diaries. Maybe Mia had one, too.
August kept her diary duct taped underneath her dresser because she knew that if it had been anywhere else in her room, her mother would have found it. She walked over to the dresser and bent down, placing her hand underneath. She felt the base of the dresser and was a little disappointed that she didn’t feel a book. Not everyone had to hide it the way that I did, she thought. She then went over to the night stand next to the bed and felt under it, but nothing was there. She looked around the room again, and then up, noticing the attic door. Perhaps?
She walked out into the hallway and saw a chair in the bedroom across the hall. August grabbed the chair and placed it directly underneath the attic’s door. Upon stepping on the chair, she was a finger’s length too short to reach the door. Damn. She stood on her toes and was able to reach just enough to pry her fingers between the door and ceiling.
“My word,” Mrs. Matthews said as she walked into the room. “W
hat are you doing?”
The chair tipped over causing August to have to hang on to the base around the door. She hadn’t done anything like that since her gymnastics days when she was a pre-teen. She was able to push open the door enough that she could feel around the base. She knew that she could only hang on for a few more seconds as her hand was quickly losing its strength. Just as she was getting ready to let go, she felt a book and quickly grabbed it.
She landed on her feet, sweating and breathing heavy. Her hand ached and was tired from holding up her weight.
“What were you doing?” Mrs. Matthews asked again.
August looked at the book and held it up. “Looking for this.” She handed it to Mrs. Matthews who inquisitively took it.
“A diary?”
“What better place to hide it if you don’t want anyone to know you have it,” August said.
“Why would Mia hide a diary from me?”
“If you don’t mind, Mrs. Matthews, I’d like to read it and maybe I can answer that for you.”
“Do you think it would help you?”
August looked up to the ceiling again and then nodded, “It might. Mia hid it up there for a reason.”
Mrs. Matthews slowly handed it back to August, but didn’t immediately let it go when August tried to take it. “Will I be able to get it back?” She started tearing.
“Of course.”
“Thank you.”
A few minutes later, August sat in her car in front of the Matthews’ home. She looked at the diary and opened the front cover, reading the title that was written in cursive handwriting.
“The Endearment Diary.”
Chapter Six
August drove away from the Matthews’ home, intrigued by the diary but more interested in talking to Marshall Rubenstein. She typed his address into her GPS and started the journey to his residence. His PO had told her that Marshall worked nights at a construction company, so it was a good bet that he was home, probably sleeping. August liked the idea of catching him off guard and waking him up. If he was her killer, she doubted he would have enough time to conjure up a believable story after just waking up.
Marshall lived in a townhouse off Muncaster Road, in Rockville, Maryland. His address was listed as Rockville, but August knew the sleepy little area as Derwood. Two winding roads connected neighborhoods via a shopping center and a 7-11. August turned into the neighborhood and parked in front of the townhome. She looked around and noted that not many cars were in the parking lot. The neighborhood was quiet, and she assumed that most were at work.
She looked at Marshall’s home and didn’t see anyone looking out of the windows, or any other movement, for that matter. She got out of her car and walked up to the front door, ringing the doorbell. A minute went by without an answer. She rang the doorbell again and, moments later, she heard the top lock being turned and the door slowly opened. Marshall Rubenstein stood inside; his eyes were only slightly open, and his hair was a bushy mess. He scratched his head and yawned.
“Mr. Rubenstein?”
“Yeah.”
August raised her badge.
“I’m Detective Miller from the Montgomery County PD. I’d like to ask you a few questions, if you don’t mind.”
Marshall looked at the badge and then back at August.
“Yeah, sure. Come in.”
He led her to a small kitchen and offered her a seat at a table.
“Want anything to drink?”
“No, thanks. I’m fine.”
“So, what can I help you with? Since you’re here, I assume that you’ve spoken with my PO and already know my background.”
August nodded, saying, “You’re right. I’ve already looked you up.”
“Okay, at least the formalities are taken care of.”
Marshall opened the refrigerator and took out a small container of orange juice. He took a sip and leaned against the counter.
“I was hoping that you could help me,” August said. “I’m looking for a girl you may have known.”
“Who?”
“Mia Matthews.”
Marshall scrunched his brow as if his mind was retracing a roster of acquaintances.
“Name doesn’t sound familiar. Why do you think I know her?”
“So the name Mia Matthews doesn’t ring a bell?”
“Honestly, Detective, the past decade of my life was either spent locked up or high. I’ve probably met plenty of people who I wouldn’t recognize if I passed them on the street. I’m glad that part of my life is behind me. So, if you’re saying that I should know this Mia person, I may have, but I just don’t remember her.” He took another sip of the orange juice. “Why are you asking about her, anyways?”
“I was at your old home this morning.”
Marshall rubbed his hand over his five o’clock shadow.
“The home I grew up in?”
“Yes.”
“Wow. Feels like I haven’t been there in years. As I’m sure you already know, my parents and I weren’t on the best speaking terms. My mother died when I was locked away. They allowed me to go to her funeral, but then I was taken right back. Last I heard, the house was sold.”
“It was, and the new homeowners started digging up the backyard when they found something.”
“What?”
“Mia Matthews.”
Marshall became quiet for a moment. His eyes had the same searching look again, and then, when it became apparent why August was there, he spoke. “Wait, what? They found her? What are you saying?”
“They found her remains when they started digging up the earth.”
“And you’re here because…”
“I’m trying to figure out how she got there.”
Marshall’s eyes widened and his tone became defensive.
“I don’t know! I didn’t put her there.”
“She went missing seven years ago. Last time she was seen was at Wheaton Mall. Ever been to Wheaton Mall?”
“I don’t know. Probably. Wheaton’s not close, but I’ve been there a couple of times.”
Marshall placed his drink on the counter, and when he did, he glanced to a knife set on his right. August caught the glance.
“If you don’t mind, Marshall, maybe we should talk a little more at the station.”
“Station? Why? I didn’t do anything wrong.”
He looked at the knives again, and this time he slid his body a little to the right. August immediately stood up and placed her hand on the top of her weapon.
“Marshall, that wouldn’t be a good move for you. Your PO said you’re a changed man. Don’t prove her wrong.”
“I didn’t do anything.”
“Then you have nothing to worry about.”
“Are you crazy?” His voice rose a little. “A dead body was found in my parent’s backyard. I’m an ex-con and former drug user, and now you’re here with your hand on your gun!”
August wasn’t sure if he was going to go for the knives. She wrapped her hand around the handle of her gun, ready to engage if he made a sudden move.
“Be smart, Marshall. You did your time, and your PO said you’re drug free. All I want to do is talk. If you do anything that’ll make me use my weapon, your changed life will be for nothing.”
Marshall sagged, seeming to accept the situation for what it was. He lowered his head and nodded.
“For both of our safeties, I’m going to need to place you in cuffs.”
Marshall nodded again. He turned around and placed his hands behind his back. Minutes later, they were in August’s car, driving to the police station.
Chapter Seven
The next few hours were spent in the interrogation room. Marshall answered every question in full. He talked about his past drug use and how drugs had influenced his bad decisions. He talked about how his last time in jail had been a real eye opener, and how he’d known that, if he didn’t change his life, he would end up committing another crime that would send him back. August asked
him a few different times and a few different ways how he knew Mia Matthews, and every time he said he didn’t.
August wasn’t sure if Marshall was being genuine or if he was just a really good liar. He was a life-long drug user who was used to lying to people, but her instincts told her that Marshall might not be the guy. Regardless, she asked if he’d consent to a DNA sample. She wasn’t sure what, if any, DNA could be retrieved from the remains, but the fact that Marshall agreed spoke volumes to his possible innocence. She swabbed his mouth and packaged the sample away for analysis. She had nothing else to hold him on, and since she hadn’t arrested him, she allowed him to return home.
August spent the remainder of the day reading over other cases, doing paperwork and taking calls. When it was time to clock out, she was hungry, but she didn’t want to eat a lot. In fact, the only thing she had a taste for was donuts. She believed in health and fitness, so eating healthy was a big part of her diet, but she had a sweet tooth that, from time to time, won the battle of good versus gluttony. When she was younger, August had loved getting donuts from a place called Montgomery Donuts. Sometimes, she’d bought half-a-dozen and eaten three before she’d made it home. Now, at thirty-seven, she couldn’t do that anymore, but from time to time, she’d go to the local grocery store and get half-a-dozen donuts from their bakery. They weren’t Montgomery Donuts, but they did the trick.
She arrived home with half-a-dozen glazed and chocolate-glazed donuts. After sitting on her couch for a couple of minutes, and coming to the realization that the donuts would be her dinner, she opened her workbag and pulled out Mia’s diary. August took a bite of her first donut and proceeded to read page one.
Chapter Eight
August read, imagining what Mia’s seventeen-year old voice might have sounded like. Would it have been high or soft? Had she spoken with a lisp, or did she enunciate each syllable? Since August didn’t know, she let her mental voice be the narrator.
The first few entries spanned a couple of months, during which Mia wrote about how much she loved her friends and family. Her mother meant everything in the world to her, and most of her entries were positive. Her words were at times poetic, and August wondered if Mia had wanted to be a writer when she grew up. Some of the entries named friends, and August made notes on what she’d want to follow-up. Thus far, the entries were typical, even stereotypical, of what a seventeen-year-old girl would write about. It wasn’t until August came to an entry dated, ‘April 13, 2009’, and entitled, ‘Heaven Has Opened Its Gates’, that things changed.
The Elephant Bowl Page 4
