by Karen Hayes
Mrs. Taylor broke into loud sobs and Copper just held her and patted her back. What words of comfort can you give such a bereaved mother?
The sheriff pulled up in front of the hospital in Pleasant View and helped Mrs. Taylor out of the car. She clung to his arm as they walked into the hospital and down the hall to the morgue, Copper following along behind.
“Do you think maybe Burt was too strict with her when she was younger? Do you think that’s why she did the things she did? Was it because she resented her father being a minister of God? It’s so hard to know how to train up a child properly. You think you’re doing the right thing, but they don’t turn out the way you want them to.”
“I think children always have minds of their own, no matter what we do,” Copper said in an attempt to comfort the distraught woman.
“Burt was strict, you know. Very strict. But that was just because he loved her so. He wanted her to grow up strong and good.”
“I’m sure he did,” Copper said.
Maureen Taylor clung to Copper as Dr. Emily Frost, the Medical Examiner, pulled back the sheet that covered Abby’s body. Then she fainted and once more, Sheriff Blodgett had to catch her.
Dr. Frost directed the sheriff to lay Mrs. Taylor on an examining table, elevated her legs and produced a damp cloth, with which she wiped the woman’s face. Mrs. Taylor opened her eyes and started to cry.
“I’m sorry. Did I faint again? It’s just…seeing her there…”
Dr. Frost helped her to sit up slowly. “I realize it’s a shock,” the ME said. “I just need you to positively identify the body.”
Mrs. Taylor nodded. “It’s her. It’s Abblyy.”
She got to her feet and walked slow over to Abby’s body, reaching out to stroke her daughter’s cold face, trying to ignore the fact that the young woman’s head was bashed in, her hair matted with blood—probably the cause of death. “My baby,” she murmured through her tears. “My poor baby.”
The door to the morgue flew open and the Reverend Taylor strode in. He saw his wife and immediately went to her side. He looked down at the body and gasped. “This is Abby?”
Maureen turned to him and buried her face against him, sobbing. He put his arms around her and held her close. “Is this really Abby?” he asked.
She nodded against him. “Yes, it’s our daughter.”
“But the hair?” Fortunately, Dr. Frost had removed the rings and studs from Abby’s face, or the pastor would have been even more shocked.
“It’s our daughter,” Maureen repeated.
Tears came to Reverend Taylor’s eyes then as he continued to hold his wife. “I’m so sorry,” he said. “I’ve been such a fool.”
He lifted his head, looked around, saw Copper. “You were right, Ms. Penny,” he said. “I have not been practicing what I preached. I should never have denied my daughter. Now it’s too late. I only pray that God will forgive me.” He looked back at the body of his child. “But the hair?”
Maureen laughed through her tears, and hugged her husband closer. “Burt, don’t worry about the hair. The piercings were worse.”
“Piercings?”
“Oh, never mind. I’m just glad you’re here. And I’m sure Abby is, too.”
Reverend Taylor turned to the sheriff next. “You’ll find out who did this,” he said.
“I’ll do my best, Reverend.”
* * *
Mrs. Taylor drove home with her husband, so Copper and the sheriff were able to discuss the case as they drove along the winding mountain road.
“I’d say this is definitely a separate case,” Harve said. “No possible connection to Ruby’s and Agatha’s murders.”
“I’m inclined to agree with you there,” Copper said, “although you never know.”
“What do you mean?” Harve asked. “We do know. Abby’s murder is a totally separate case.”
“If you say so, Harve.”
“Well, you obviously don’t agree. So just how do you think they’re connected?”
“I don’t,” Copper told him. “I’m just saying we have to be open to any possibility. We could just have a vicious serial killer on our hands.”
“A vicious serial killer who happens to be one of our friends and neighbors.”
“I never said it would be something pleasant. And Abby’s death could have nothing to do with the other two. But don’t you think it’s just a little too much of a coincidence? I mean, we go along for years and years with no serious crimes in our community, then all of a sudden we have three murders?”
“Well, technically, Abby’s murder wasn’t in our community. It was up in the mountains,” the sheriff said.
“Close enough,” Copper said. “The Pond is closer to Misty Valley than it is to Pleasant View.”
“Okay. What do you suggest we do now?”
“Investigate the boyfriend, I guess.”
“The boyfriend?” Harve asked.
“The guitarist in the rock band. She had left him. He got upset at that and killed her.”
“What does the boyfriend have to do with Agatha and Ruby?”
“Nothing.”
“Okay, you’ve lost me,” Harve said. “One minute you’re saying all three murders are connected and the next minute you’re saying we need to investigate Abby’s boyfriend, who has nothing to do with the other two murders. Make up your mind, woman!”
“We have to look at all the possibilities, Harve. In fact, if Reverend Taylor had not looked so totally shocked at Abby’s hair, I’d even consider him a suspect.”
“He could have been pretending to be shocked,” Harve said, and grinned. Copper elbowed him in the side.
“This is not something to joke about,” Copper reminded him, “especially since you could be right.”
NINETEEN
IT WAS A DIFFERENT AND SUBDUED REVEREND Taylor who preached at the Methodist Church in Misty Valley that Sunday morning. He was not a young man, but he had still aged considerably in the past couple of days. He looked gaunt and stooped as he stood at the pulpit. He was contrite and tearful, apologizing to his entire congregation for his attitude of the past twelve years.
“I have preached forgiveness,” he said, although the words did not come easily, “but have not forgiven. I have preached love and charity, but withheld those from my own daughter. It is too late now to ask for her forgiveness, but today I humbly ask for yours, and hope you have better hearts than I do.” He stopped and pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, with which he loudly blew his nose, then refolded the handkerchief and put it back in his pocket.
A murmur went through the assemblage. Word had not yet reached the citizens of Misty Valley about the body that had been discovered at The Pond. Since Ryan had driven up there from Pleasant view instead of Misty Valley, no one had seen the ambulance. Their pastor went on to enlighten them, although he was so choked up that had there not been a micro-phone on the pulpit his words would not have reached past the first row.
“A couple of hikers found Abby’s body—my, our daughter Abby, some of you may remember her—yesterday morning at The Pond. Somebody had taken her life.”
He paused and turned away, reaching for Maureen. She went to his side and took his hand. “My wife and I went to Pleasant View at the request of Sheriff Blodgett and identified her body. It was not a pleasant experience. My daughter made a lot of mistakes in her life. But she was still my daughter.” He broke down here and had to once more fumble in his pocket for his handkerchief to wipe his eyes. “I have been guilty of a great sin, the sin of pride. I couldn’t accept my daughter’s mistakes, so I made an even worse mistake. And now I truly have no daughter. I feel I am not worthy to be your pastor. I plan to submit my resignation tomorrow. I am sorry. I am truly sorry.”
He was crying audibly as he left the podium and let his wife lead him to his seat.
A member of the congregation rose to his feet. It was Drew Barnes. Drew was the Lay Leader in the church. “We all make mistakes, Reverend.
As Lay Leader, I represent the members of this congregation. I know them well. They are all friends and fellow church members. So I think I can speak for all of them. We feel for you and Mrs. Taylor in your grief. But we do not want your resignation. You have served this community well for over thirty years. We’d like you to continue to serve us.”
One by one, others in the church got to their feet and seconded what Drew had said. They all gave Burt Taylor their votes of confidence.
The distraught pastor got to his feet once more, his face flooded with tears. It was a while before he could even try to speak. But no words came. Maureen got up beside him and slipped her arm through his, tears running down her face as well.
“Thank you,” she said, her voice breaking. “We both thank you. And we ask for your prayers on the sheriff’s behalf, that he might be guided in his search for the vicious killer who took the life of our only child. And for whoever killed Agatha Lafferty and Ruby Stone, too. We need to rid our community of this vile wickedness. I think…I think the service is over for today. And again, thank you for your support.”
Maureen collapsed in her husband’s arms and they both cried.
* * *
“Well, I hope everyone does as Maureen suggested,” Harve said as he and Copper walked out of the church. “A few prayers are what I need right now. I’m having so much trouble figuring all this out, maybe the good Lord can figure it out for me.”
“I doubt he’ll figure it out for you, Harve, but he can maybe nudge you in the right direction. Are you going to go talk to the boyfriend?”
Harve nodded. “I called Louise last night to find out who he was. She doesn’t know his name, but she said the group he played with was called the Zombie something or other. I’ll take a trip into the city tomorrow after Ruby’s funeral and see what I can dig up.”
“Maybe Maureen knows his name. Remember, she’s been meeting with Abby quite regularly.”
“Right. Maybe I’ll call her a little later today. Now’s probably not a good time. Today’s service was a bit emotional for both of them. Actually, maybe I’ll ask Louise instead. She might know. Right now, though, I’m pretty hungry. What say we pop over to the Lodge for some of Marcia’s meatloaf? My treat.”
“I put a pot roast in my slow-cooker this morning with potatoes and carrots. And I baked some cookies last night. It was this new recipe I found—oatmeal cookies with both dark chocolate and white chocolate chips and pecans. They’re really good. I ate four of them last night. So instead of the Lodge, why not come home with me. The roast should be about done.”
“You’re on,” the sheriff said. “But next time it’s my treat.”
* * *
“I went up to The Pond before church this morning with Fran,” the sheriff told Copper while he was shoveling in her delicious pot roast. “She showed me where the body had been found. It wasn’t in the water, but in some bushes.”
“So she didn’t drown.”
“Nope. It was the ever popular ‘blunt instrument.’ Fran found a rock with blood and hair on it. That was probably the murder weapon. Remember, Abby’s head was pretty thoroughly bashed in.”
Louise called Sheriff Blodgett back on his cell phone while he and Copper were eating cookies and drinking coffee.
“The boyfriend’s name is Dirk McGraw,” she said. “And the group is called Zombies ‘R’ Us.”
“Thanks, Mrs. Lafferty,” Harve said. “I don’t suppose you know if they’re playing anywhere at the moment?”
“Monday through Saturday nights, eight and ten o’clock, at a bar near Reed College called the Study Hall.”
“Reed College, huh? Lot of drug dealing going on at that bar?”
Louise laughed. “I really don’t know, Sheriff. I’ve never been there. And not everyone at Reed is into drugs. I went there, you know. So did Copper.”
“Yeah, well, I’ll pop in there tomorrow night. Guess I’d better not wear my uniform, though. Don’t want to scare the patrons.”
He closed his phone and turned to Copper. “Wanna go listen to a group called Zombies ‘R’ Us in Portland tomorrow night?” he asked. “They’re playing in a bar near your old stomping grounds.”
“I don’t think so, Harve. I’ll let you handle that one by yourself.”
“Hmmm. Maybe I’ll take the Parker boy with me. I think it would be best to go with a young person.”
“Trevor would be a little closer to the college-aged crowd.”
“Yes, but I’d like to talk to Ron some more about Ruby. Something might come out in the conversation that could help with the case.”
“Speaking of Ruby, her funeral is tomorrow. Are you planning to say something?”
“Do I have to?”
Copper laughed. “No, Harve, you don’t have to. But it might be nice if you said something like you are hoping to have her murder solved soon, that you are working on all leads.”
“Soon? You really think this can be solved soon?”
“We can hope, can’t we?”
“Yeah, we can hope. Why couldn’t Abby’s murder have waited until I had the other two cases solved? I don’t like all these killings going on. This used to be such a nice, quiet area. I don’t under-stand what happened.”
“Could you get Fran to help you on that one? Maybe she could go with you to the city tomorrow night.”
“I don’t know if that would be such a good idea. Fran may be a woman, but she has cop written all over her. And she’s big. She’d scare everyone out of that bar before I could find out anything.”
“I guess you’re right. But maybe she can do some investigating on this end. Any prints on the rock?”
Harve shook his head.
“Footprints in the area, maybe?”
“Lots of them. The Pond is a popular place.”
“And with the rain we’ve been having on and off all week, it’d be pretty muddy.”
“It’s muddy, all right. Got my good uniform shoes all mucked up. Too muddy to get any good molds of any of the footprints. Don’t know what good that would do anyway. It’s hunting season, Copper. Do you know how many people are up in these hills this time of year? We have hunters in good weather and bad, and hikers in good weather.”
“Not to mention inebriated fisherman like Brandon and Connie in bad weather.”
“Right. Have you ever been up by The Pond in October, Copper? Or anywhere in this area? The leaves are real pretty up there, you know? The hikers like that. The kids that found Abby’s body had a camera. They were taking pictures of the leaves. They also took some of the body, but Fran made them delete those. All we need is some crazy kids selling sensational photos to the media.”
“I have been there, Harve. George and I used to hike up there all the time. See that picture over there?” she pointed to a framed photo hanging on the wall over her sofa. It was of fall leaves reflected in clear, calm water. “George took that last year, just about this time. It was a gorgeous day, much like it was yesterday. Blue skies, not a cloud in sight. Perfect hiking weather. And not even a wisp of a breeze. The Pond was like glass. I’ve never seen it so calm. We had taken fishing poles with us, intending to see if we could catch our dinner. But it seemed almost like sacrilege to disturb the stillness, so we just sat and looked at it. And took pictures. One of those poster shops in the city blew that one up for me, so I could have it framed.”
“It’s a real nice picture, Copper. It looked a lot like that this morning, except there was a breeze, so there were ripples on the water. I don’t know that anyone’s ever caught any fish up there.”
“I did once, when I was a little girl. My dad took my brother and me up there. I caught the only fish that day, but it was too small, so my dad made me throw it back in.”
“I didn’t know you had a brother, Copper.”
Copper nodded. “He’s a few years younger. Manages a hotel down in Fort Lauderdale. A confirmed bachelor who loves spring break.”
“If I lived in Florida, I think I’d li
ke spring break, too. Lots of pretty girls in skimpy bikinis.”
“As long as all you do is look. Barry almost got in trouble once when he decided he’d like to date one of those bikini-clad beauties. Turned out she was a high-school girl, not a college one.”
“Oops.”
“Yes, oops is right. Fortunately, he didn’t get very far with her. Now he sticks to dating their chaperones.”
“They have chaperones?”
“Some of them.”
“I wouldn’t mind going to Florida someday. Maybe when I retire. Which might be soon if we don’t get these murders solved. Sheriff is an elected position.”
“Yes, well, good luck in Portland tomorrow night. Could we ride to the funeral together tomorrow? Monica said she’d watch the store. She didn’t really know Ruby all that well so wasn’t planning to attend the funeral. She said Trevor will bring in lunch for her. You know, that boy might be just a lazy good-for-nothing, but he does treat Monica well.”
“Monica’s a nice girl. But I think she’d be better off with someone like Ron Parker.”
“Oh, I think Ron’s a little old for her. Monica’s only nineteen. One of these days, Trevor’ll decide what he wants to be when he grows up. Just give him time.”
