“Ms. Stevens, did you know about the affair between Jenny Marx and Doctor Dennis?”
The woman shook her head sadly. “No, she never talked about it to anyone I knew, but then, I am a teacher, I would be in the last group to find out. Now I have to go get ready to tackle my next class. Nice meeting you, Maude. Hope to see you again.” She stood and shook hands with Maude, looking up into her eyes and smiling.
Joe had been busy, arranging with the facilities people to provide them a golf cart to travel back and forth over the campus. Thanks to Rebecca Stevens, the maintenance supervisor set it all up after her call.
Maude was grateful, her knees and hips had been acting up from the damp weather that always made arthritis worse. The ride to the Chemistry lab was short and bumpy; a few pieces of concrete had broken away from the campus road, causing wheeled traffic a rough ride. She didn’t complain, but remained happy to be off her feet.
“Find out anything, Joe?”
“Well, I talked to the people in Facilities. Their opinions of Doctor Dennis were: he minded his own business, didn’t abuse the property in any way, and always arranged his trips off campus ahead of time if vans were needed. They had nothing bad to say about the man. Seems he was a bit of a recluse, but he was entitled to his privacy.”
“Let’s go see the chemistry teacher. Find out what we can about Jenny Marx. I’m curious about her change of majors. This professor doubles as a biology teacher, so I hope we catch him between classes.”
“Maybe we can get something to eat after that. I’m starved, been a long time since tacos.”
“That will be fine, Joe. Only thing, I’ve had enough university food in my life to last me. Let’s catch a burger place off campus. Still a little early for me, but maybe I can chase down Lilly Ann; find out why she wasn’t at home this morning.”
“Are we going to interview Jenny’s parents?”
“Maybe. It’s a long trip to Florida for an interview. More than likely, they’ll be here for the funeral and we can talk to them afterwards.” Maude thought about the parents of the dead woman, and of the many faces she had watched racked with grief in her time. Sometimes the pain from the victim’s family was overwhelming. Their lives would be forever changed by the facts of death. That was the part of her job that she hated.
The chemistry teacher, Assistant Professor Chavez was a new teacher. The other half of the chemistry department was headed by Professor Paula Bledsoe, a fortyish woman with short, frizzy, red hair, pale-green intelligent eyes, and a sprinkling of freckles. She was of medium height, with skinny calves and ankles supporting several extra pounds in her abdomen. Bledsoe’s overall carriage was at best graceless, but her smile of greeting was warm and friendly, reminding her visitors that beauty was indeed skin deep.
“Please come in, I hope you’ll forgive the mess, but we are remodeling the office. Have a seat, but mind the paint specks.”
“Thank you,” Maude said. “I’m Maude Rogers, and this is my partner Joe Allen, we’re homicide detectives from Madison, Texas, doing a favor for Sheriff Jack Fuller, over at Rhodes County. He’s got a bad shoulder and can’t get around. Wonder if we might ask you some questions about Jenny Marx and Doctor Aaron Dennis?”
“I will do what I can to help, even though I don’t see how I can help. Such a sad waste; Jenny Marx was brilliant. I don’t know much about Doctor Dennis, but from what I hear, he was a very dedicated researcher.”
Maude motioned for Joe to start the interview while she sat back and took notes.
“Jenny Marx changed her major about two years ago. What can you tell me about her, and any reason she gave for changing?” Joe smiled his heartbreaker’s smile, his green eyes flashing danger signs to members of the female population. Paula Bledsoe was neither immune to Joe’s charms nor overcome by them. It was easy for Maude to see that the woman appreciated a handsome man.
“Jenny came to me in the winter, less than two years ago, and said she had decided to change her degree plan radically. She said that chemistry and mathematics had always appealed to her, even when she was told that English education was her forte’. She promised that although she was behind in her studies, she believed that with hard work and perseverance, she would catch up.
“Over the next few semesters, Jenny not only caught up, she surpassed other students in the same program, distinguishing herself in all her classes. She was intent on graduating this year, saying that she had reasons for hurrying. I never asked her what they were, but I don’t think she would have told me had I done so.”
“Did she ever talk about her personal life with you or anyone in class?” Joe asked.
“Not to me, but I believe she might have spoken to Mr. Chavez. You are certainly welcome to ask him. As far as Doctor Dennis and his work, I’m afraid I can’t be of any assistance, for I’ve never had more than a nodding acquaintance with him. I’m sorry; I wish I could be of more assistance, but I must get back to work.”
“Thank you for your time Professor Bledsoe. You’ve been a great help,” Maude said, leaving the room. Joe said his own thank you, and walked outside, taking some notes, missing a step in his concentration.
“Joe, I want to find Mr. Chavez, and question him a little before we leave. Did it seem to you that Professor Bledsoe didn’t want to talk about Aaron Dennis?”
“She did seem a little too eager for us to leave. Maybe we should make it a point to ask a few questions later when she thinks we’re satisfied.”
The assistant professor had gone to lunch after class was over, leaving the two detectives with a few minutes to find food for themselves. They drove the cart to the car and parked it out of the way, taking the key to the small vehicle.
A sign one block down from school advertised fish and fries, root beer, and other fast foods. They both agreed a change of pace would be a treat. After the crunchy pieces of cod were delivered, doused with vinegar, and loaded with tartar sauce, Maude decided she had found another favorite food. Eating twice in the same day was unusual for her, but the tacos that morning had been less than filling.
The afternoon had progressed, and the wind was up, bringing colder temperatures, an impetus to hurry with their interviews. The next step, they decided was to separate, with Joe interviewing one person, and Maude another.
In the back of her mind a little nagging worry had started about Lilly Ann. She hadn’t called her aunt all day, even though Maude had left her several voice mails. She decided to give Joe heads up.
“Joe, I have to tell you, I’m getting worried about my niece. She should have called me by now. If you don’t mind, I’m going to run by the house and see if her mother is there. She was supposed to be back home today from a quick trip to Houston. Probably Lilly Ann is with her, but I have to know. Think you can carry on without me?”
“No problem,” Joe said, concerned by Maude’s attitude. “Go ahead, I’ll take over here while you do that. Let me know what’s up.”
The house on Caldwell Street was undisturbed since morning. Lilly Ann’s car still sat in the garage, with no one in the house. Maude had locked the door when she left, but she knew where the spare key was kept. Jean’s car was still gone, but Maude figured she was on her way back from Houston.
Opening the door was different from the activity of her early morning visit. This time there was reason to look and see with a different eye. The investigator searched for abnormalities, for unfinished activities, for signs that a day’s schedule had been interrupted. On the kitchen counter was a full cup of mocha latte, Lilly Ann’s special drink, one that Maude detested, but the girl had to have in the morning to start her day. The toaster held one-half of a bagel, burned on the edges, cold from its ejection from the machine at an earlier time.
In the refrigerator a bag was standing on the shelf, a lunch packed for the day, still waiting for Lilly Ann to pick-up and carry to school. The bedroom was next; its tidiness reflective of the girl’s character. The only flaw was the thin robe on the floor near
the closet. The signs are here, everywhere. Why didn’t I look for them early in the day?
She finished the search, going room to room, finding the tell-tale clues. Her niece was missing. The answer machine on Jean and Lilly Ann’s house phone was blinking, full of messages from concerned friends throughout the day.
“Where are you? You missed lunch, girlfriend. You should see the mess in the hallway this morning; Dodie was puking everywhere.” They went on until the machine had filled to capacity. Maude’s belly was growling, it always happened, the precursor to diarrhea that stress and anxiety brought on.
She calmed herself as she knew how, as she knew she must. Taking it one step at a time, she dealt with the evidence as she would if it were not her only niece. Clinically, she saw in her mind’s eye as it had happened.
Lilly Ann was in her robe, coffee just made, waiting for it to cool a moment before drinking. She had bathed earlier, her clothing chosen, hanging in the closet till the last minute to avoid wrinkles. The half-bagel was almost ready, burned on the outside edge just as she liked it, the leisurely breakfast even more wonderful because she was alone for a short time.
Her mother was due, in fact the doorbell probably sounded or someone knocked. “She must have forgotten her key. Mother. Silly you.” The thin robe would have barely covered her, still damp from the shower, her hair wet, rolled in a towel. She would have opened the door, throwing it aside, ready to hug her mother and chastise her at the same time.
But it wasn’t mother. It was someone else, a planned abduction, taking Lilly Ann away. But where? Who? Why? He let her get dressed, evidenced by the robe on the floor. He would not have known Lilly Ann’s habits, the way she hung her clothing, the dishes in the sink, everything put away; this stranger at Lilly Ann’s door.
Who might have seen? The neighbor next door, who spied through her window, or the old man across the street who eyed Lilly Ann with lust when she wore tight jeans and a tee-shirt. Would they have noticed her being forced into a car? Would they admit to seeing?
Maude ran to the neighbors, first the spy, who said she saw nothing. Then the lecherous old man who replied, “I saw a car in front of the house, a young man, crew cut, round glasses. Lilly Ann with a blue dress, gossamer, a button up sweater over the fabric, black shoes, her hair wet. Strange,” the man said, “the wet hair and thin dress. So thin you could see through it. Shame on her. It was early, before you arrived,” he said.
“You saw me drive up, and you said nothing?”
“I thought she was on a date.” The lust was still evident on his wrinkled face.
“You’d best get inside before I do some terrible things to you,” Maude advised. She studied her surroundings with icy calm, searching for evidence, while ignoring the blowing wind and rain of the cold front that had dropped the temperature at least ten degrees.
“Joe, I’m coming to get you,” she said on her cell. “Lilly Ann was abducted by the driver of the blue Chevy. The country gentleman, the liar who watched me, probably did a search on my most vulnerable relatives. I’ll be there in five minutes.”
“Where are we going Maude? What are we going to do? Call the police, get some help,” Joe interjected.
“Good idea,” she replied. “You call. I’ll be there soon.”
She barely made it to the bathroom before losing her breakfast and lunch. The picture of Lilly Ann laid out dead, or in a state of torture was more than she could bear. Whoever has taken her has some master plan, she told herself. Surely that plan doesn’t include taking her life. Maude washed her face and hands and then tried to pull herself together, remembering her training. She said a quick prayer that her niece wasn’t in mortal danger and would be found unharmed, and then walked back outside the house to wait for Joe. Whoever had taken Lilly Ann had fulfilled his purpose if it was to muck up Maude’s concentration on the Edwards Bay murders.
Chapter 11
She sat in the truck, thinking as she drove, trying to put her thoughts together, trying to remember what the young man who called himself Samuel Marshall had said. Did he leave any clues-any dropped information that I can pick up and use to find my sweet niece? The driver license, his identity, he wanted me to see it. What did it say? What was the address? Where was it? Think, think, think, Maude! Bulverde Creek, no Bulverde Street, in what city, where? Rhodes County, Rural Route? Where was it? God, help me remember.
The rural streets in Rhodes County were laid out without order. Most were named after the residents that settled the land, divided it into parcels, and sold it later to developers. The waterway and the Bay in Rhodes County were magnets drawing people into the rural areas, making streets out of pot-holed jeep roads. Maude knew that Sheriff Jack would know the answer; he would know every street and alley of his county.
The phone rang at the hospital, the admissions person finally transferring her to Jack’s room. “Jack, it’s Maude. I have a snake by the tail and I can’t let him go without getting bit. I need your help.”
“What is it?” He asked, fully alert, recognizing distress in his partner’s voice.
“There’s a road in your county, somewhere outside, near the edge, Bulverde something. That’s all I remember. He took my niece, Jack. He’s got her. I can’t get there as fast as Ernest. Can you send him? Tell him it might be worse than a snake- watch closely. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
“Calm yourself, my friend. I know the place. Been there on my rounds. It’s remote, real quiet. Wish I could go, but I’ll send Ernest and Ray. Good boys.”
“Thanks Jack. I’ll see you soon. Oh, and if they find her, tell them to be gentle with the girl. She’s never known violence.”
The car careened off the curb with Maude driving fast, coming to a full stop within three feet of Joe.
“Move over Maude,” Joe ordered as he opened the door. “You sit, I’ll drive.”
She felt a great relief, her partner would help; they would find Lilly Ann. She knew it. “Fine, you drive. Head down the freeway, about fifty miles.”
“Who is it Maude, who’s got your niece, and how do you know it’s him?”
She ran down the last half hour’s discoveries, including her memory of Samuel Marshall’s driver license. She told him about trying to recall the address, and then calling Jack.
“It’s him, Joe. I don’t know why he took her, but it’s him. I looked in his eyes and thought he was true, but I was wrong. He’s evil and has some god-forsaken motive. Samuel Marshall won’t be his real name, but it’s a start.”
The trip seemed to take forever for Maude stuck in the passenger seat of her own vehicle. Her unfiltereds were off–limits until the evening. The commitment had been made and even the potential loss of her niece didn’t change her mind. She didn’t trade one sin of hers for someone else’s. She was stoic, the thoughts whirling in her mind but not reaching outside. It had been a long time since she felt such remorse-well over a year ago. The girl who had rented her house, a sweet young thing with her life before her suffered a terrible death so Maude would perform in a macabre play.
There was no fairness in murder, no equity in mayhem. It was the evil nature of debased man that rose up and gleefully destroyed life. She wondered if all who strove to contain the criminal element was at one time or another forced to stare helplessly into the light in a madman’s eyes.
The phone rang, it was Jack calling. They had located the address, and his deputies were headed that way. Maude gave him her location and found that they were close, very close to the place--the heart of Lilly Ann’s darkness.
“Joe, Jack says to take the Route 3 cut-off, turn left, and go about three miles back into the woods. The house is there, all by itself.”
“Got it,” he said, urging the pick-up to take the turn on two wheels. “Be there in a minute or two.”
Maude pulled the clasp off her holster, the Glock 19 waiting for instructions. Ahead, the area was nothing but skinny trees. In the distance she saw a lot of naked mesquite and huisache, a ta
ll cane break, and an opening she could see that led to a small, double-wide mobile home. The color was nondescript. Once beige, it was now dirtied by the blowing wind and rain, and the fading of the summer sun. The door was closed. Ernest had parked the county vehicle under cover of some of the trees and was waiting for instructions.
They gathered together behind their trucks forging a unified assault on the door of the house. Maude led the group, hunkering down where she was partly hidden from the windows inside. No sound came from the house, no bullets came flying, nor was there any sign of life. “Police,” Maude shouted. “Open up, Police.”
They rushed the door, staying under cover of the exterior walls. This time it was Joe who shouted the words, ready to enter with his gun prepared to fire, but holding until the last minute to protect the innocent. Maude prayed again that Lilly Ann hadn’t suffered pain or loss. She thought of Jean, the girl’s mother, at home wondering why her daughter hadn’t returned from the university. Jean would have followed the path Maude took, first the bedroom, then the kitchen, seeing the morning coffee, a bone-freezing fear setting in as she searched for Lilly Ann behind each door.
They opened the unlocked entry door easily. Going through the house from one point to the next, the group of law enforcement officers found the large walk-in closet in the master bedroom. It was closed off, the hollow doors already battered and ruined from abuse, braced against one another, holding together with half the original hinges. Maude nodded at Joe. “Pull”, her eyes said.
The doors fell to the side, baring the closet, the empty shelves and hangers naked in the evening light. Down in the far corner, against the last shelf, Lilly Ann lay wrapped and tied into a bundle, a dirty gag over her mouth. Her eyes were wild, swollen from crying, and the pupils black from fear. She looked at Maude and began struggling against the ropes, trying to reach her aunt.
They came off easily. Loosely tied they were just enough confinement to keep Lilly Ann from freedom. The gag was a plain, once-white cloth, similar to those for wiping dishes. The final movement of freedom from the ropes sent the captive into hysterical screams, the kind that come at the end of trauma when fear of the threats return still holds sway.
The Maude Rogers Murder Collection Page 38
