by Levi Fuller
“No, she wasn’t practicing. There were some volleyballs about, which was wrong since Coach O’Brien was responsible for making sure all equipment was returned to the locker room. She was sitting in the bleachers, waiting for someone or something. I had her help me with the volleyballs. I asked her if she needed a ride home. She said she had a ride already. That was good enough for me. After I locked up everything, I escorted her outside. She was sitting on the bench by the gym when I left.”
“She didn’t say who was giving her a ride?” Margo asked.
“No, she didn’t say.”
“So, you were the last one to see her alive?”
He nodded. “I suppose so. And don’t think Sheriff Males didn’t grill me about that. I told him the same story I’m telling you. I was glad to admit to him that I was gay and had no interest in women.”
“You left her outside the gym,” Marcia repeated. “Did you see anyone else around? Recognize any cars or trucks?”
“Just one. I hadn’t gone a half-mile before I passed the beater truck of Michael Kosinski. He was a junior and about to be kicked out for smoking in the restroom and causing general mayhem.”
“We’ve never heard of him,” Margo said. “Was Mandy involved with him?”
“Not that I knew of. You might ask Tanya Abot. She was Mandy’s best friend.”
“We will. Did you have the sense that Mandy was in trouble? Was there something on her mind?”
“She was not very talkative, but then, she never was. Most of the kids didn’t talk to me unless they had to.”
“Here’s the big question,” Marcia said, “who do you think killed Mandy?”
Cummins removed his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. His nails were manicured and clean.
“There were three men who I thought had the temperament for it,” Cummins said. “And I put a lot of stock in temperament. I was involved with adolescents for over thirty years, and I learned to judge them by what they were capable of doing. Some simply didn’t have the wherewithal to harm others. But some were predators. They were not above hanging a cat or pulling the wings off flies if you know what I mean.”
“We do,” Margo assured him. “Some people are unable to control their inner voices.”
“We all have them, don’t we? I must confess that my voices took me all over the world. I met people from every walk of life, in every kind of environment. That’s what’s wrong with me. When you go about as I did, you pick up pathogens, as they’re called. Some of those are lethal. Mine is. But I don’t regret what I’ve done. Not for a minute.”
“Who were the two men?” Marcia prompted.
“One was her father.”
“What?” Margo said. “Her father?”
“When you travel in the circles I did, you learn some of the more unsavory details about people. Mandy’s father led a double life. He was all family man, but he sometimes returned from his long-haul job early. There was a bar in Chingville called the Alley Cat. It was a dive filled with strong men who liked to play rough… forced sex. Charlie was one of them. He liked them young and smooth.”
“No one knew?”
“Very few people from Havermill ever visited the Alley Cat. The ones who did never went back.”
“Why would Charlie kidnap his own daughter?”
“People will do almost anything to protect their vices. Maybe she learned about what he was doing.”
“All right. Who else?”
“Michael Kosinski, the one with the beater pickup. He did mean things. Sometimes, just to be mean. He was a bully who liked to take lunch money from freshmen. And the last one would be Sheriff Males.”
“The sheriff? He was capable of this?”
“He called it law and order, but it was really brutality. I had a friend, a compadre if you will. He lived in Sparta, which was a good hour’s drive. Sometimes, he would visit. Then, one evening, a few miles outside of town, he was stopped by Males. My friend had a taillight out or something. It was nothing, but that didn’t stop Males from pulling my friend out of his car and smashing his face into the window a few times. It seemed Males didn’t like people of my persuasion, and he made that clear. This was before cell phones and camera phones. No one would’ve believed that Males gave my friend a broken nose.”
“What did Males say when you confronted him?”
“How do you know I confronted him?”
“That’s what a man like you would do.”
Cummins smiled. “You’re right. It was something I had to do. Males said he didn’t like men like me. He tolerated me because I was neat and clean, and I did most of my ‘stuff’ in other counties and cities. He let me know that if that ever changed, there would be trouble. Who knew when a taillight would go dark? He didn’t think anyone would believe me either.”
“But Mandy? Why her?”
“You asked me who might be capable of it. Males was capable. If he had a good reason to take her, I think he would have. It’s that simple.”
The sisters looked at each other, having learned enough. They knew it was time to leave Cummins to his memories.
“If you can think of anything else that might help us,” Marcia said, “could you give us a call?”
“Certainly. Can I ask you two a question?”
“Sure,” Margo said.
“You’ve seen a lot of death, or rather, the aftermath of death. What do you think of suicide?”
“Suicide? What do you mean?”
“I must face facts. I’m deteriorating. That’s obvious. I have no interest in moving to the medical facility and living in some form of indignity. I’ve had a good life. I’ve done what I wanted to do. That probably sounds pompous, but I believe it’s true. I only have two sisters, who, while nice enough, have no real interest in caring for me. I don’t blame them. We’ve never been particularly close. So, I’d like to choose my own time and method of dying if possible. Why leave to chance what I can control? The question, the telling question, is what will that do to my sisters? To those I’ve known and loved?”
“You first,” Margo said to Marcia.
“Gee, thanks,” Marcia whispered before answering, “All right, I’ll try it. In my experience, the unexpected suicide is the one that hurts the most. There was a girl, an eighth-grader, who was having problems. She came home one afternoon and loaded her father’s shotgun. There was no note, no warning. She left the kitchen a mess. That family was never the same. Divorce, her younger brother turned to drugs, her father remarried twice, and her mother went to live with her mother. That girl left a broken family behind.”
“On the other hand,” Margo said. “There was a woman who couldn’t face the agony of MS and its end game. She went about, saying her goodbyes, giving away her things. Her suicide didn’t cause any rifts or agony, just the normal grief that comes with a passing.”
Cummins tapped his chin. “I was thinking the same thing. If they know it’s coming, well then, they can prepare. They can know it wasn’t because of them. If it just happens… Thank you. You’ve cleared up some of my concerns.”
“One last question,” Marcia said with a frown. “You’re not thinking of doing this in the next month, are you? Because we’re working this case, and well, we might need to talk to you again.”
Cummins laughed. “No, nothing so soon. I have some fences to mend and gifts to bestow. Six months, I think six months will do.”
The drive back to Havermill was silent at first. Marcia drove, running the information through her mind, and examining his words. Cummins’ last question especially touched her.
“Look,” Marcia said. “I know you would never decide to leave without telling me. But let’s make it a pact. Neither of us can go sideways without telling the other. What do you say?”
“I was thinking the same thing,” Margo answered. “No guilt trips. No matter what happens. We will always share that sort of thing.”
“Agreed.”
They shook hands as they had been doin
g since grade school. They hadn’t made many pacts in life, but the ones they did make were serious.
“I’m glad that’s out of the way,” Margo said. “Now, what do you think of Cummins?”
“Straight shooter who knows himself better than most,” Marcia answered. “You?”
“Same. I think he’s seen enough of the world to recognize certain types. If he thinks Charlie, Kosinski, and Males had the makings of a killer, then I’m inclined to agree.”
“Where do we start?”
“With the one, we can find first.”
“Males?”
“No, I think we should look into him last. He’s the shrewd kind that will be hard to pin down unless we have some real ammunition.”
“Then, it’s Charlie or Kosinski.”
“Let’s find them.”
Margo pulled out her phone and began her online search. After a few minutes, Margo started to chuckle.
“What?” Marcia asked.
“Kosinski. He’ll be easy to find.”
“Why is that?”
“Because he’s in prison. Mountain View Correctional Institution. Spruce Pine, North Carolina. Medium security.”
“Give them a call. See if we might visit with Mr. Kosinski.”
Marcia waited as Margo figured out all the details. It took her a couple of minutes, and a few references to their successful investigations before the prison personnel agreed to let the sisters see Kosinski.
“Well?” Marcia asked as Margo put down her phone.
“He’ll be waiting.”
CHAPTER 3
The Mountain View Correctional Institution sat at the top of a foothill. In the distance, the tree-covered mountains were not yet covered in snow. The facility looked new, by prison standards. The prisoner quarters were behind several rows of chain link fence, topped by razor wire. Margo shivered at the sight of the wire. It would be incredibly depressing to be incarcerated behind this. How could someone find any hope here?
“Not appealing, is it?” Marcia asked as they walked to the visitor’s entrance.
“Not one bit. Remind me never to do a serious crime.”
“You’re reminded.”
They entered the building and were shown into a small windowless room. Marcia and Margo sat on one side of the table. They didn’t speak as they did not know if they could be heard. The last thing they expected was privacy in prison. After all, they were not attorneys or even related to the inmate they wanted to see. They had to assume someone was listening. Of course, that was a good thing to assume, no matter what was going on. How careful would someone be if they knew people were listening.
The man who walked in the room wore shackles on his wrists. He sat opposite them while a guard tied the shackle to the table with a padlock. Margo wasn’t scared. She didn’t think the man was in good enough shape to harm them. He was clean-shaven, with a bare head. His washed-out blue eyes regarded them with interest. His neck bore several prison tattoos, with crude drawings and letters. He folded his hands on the table, revealing two knuckles covered with the words “love” and “hate.” He made sure they could see them.
“My, my, my,” the man said. “This is my lucky day. Two fine looking women. To what do I owe this visit?”
The orange jumpsuit was too big on him, except around his middle. Someone in prison was eating well.
“I’ll make this simple,” Marcia said. “We’re working the cold case of Mandy Salter. You were near the high school on the night she disappeared.”
“Who told you that?”
“Assistant principal Cummins.”
“That old fag? How would he know?”
“He said you drove an easily recognizable pickup, Mr. Kosinski.”
“Call me Mike. I guess that beater did have some personality. What time did he say he saw me?”
“Shortly before dark. He was going home. You were driving toward the school.”
“You know, I bet he passed half a dozen cars and trucks heading in the direction of the school. That doesn’t mean anything. I was just one of those cars.”
“Did you know Mandy Salter,” Margo asked.
“Not personally. I knew what she looked like, and I gotta tell you, she was hot in those volleyball shorts. You ever see how tight those things are? I bet you two would look like pumpkin pie in those shorts.”
“Did you ever talk to her or give her a ride?”
“No. Not that I didn’t offer. She was sitting outside the gym, and she looked like she needed a ride. I offered. She turned me down. Case closed.”
“You know how she died, where they found her body.”
“I heard some things. And some deputy actually talked to me about her. Like I said, she was never in my truck. I doubt she even knew who I was.”
“Did you know Tanya Abot?”
“Yeah, she married Zinder, right? If you want someone who could murder, it would be Zinder. He’s as dirty as the sheriff. He was around those two for years. Wouldn’t surprise me if he hit on Salter before he got with Tanya.”
“Oh, what makes you say that?”
“Just a feeling. That and what he said one night when he was drunk.”
“Which was?”
“How about you hold my hand, and I’ll tell you.”
“I think this interview is over,” Marcia said in a stern voice. He was playing them for fools.
“No, don’t be that way,” he said. “I’m just trying to get a little touch. You know how lonely it gets in here? You can’t even remember what a woman feels like.”
“What did Zinder say when he was drunk?” Margo asked.
“It was maybe five years after that girl died. We were sitting in my pickup, out by the river. Not far from where she was found. We were both drunk on weed and cheap shine. That’s when he pointed down the river. He said, ‘she was right down there. Right on the bank. You could tell she was dead because she wasn’t moving. The birds hadn’t found her yet. Not the coyotes, either. She looked so white.’ That’s what he said. We were both pretty drunk, though.”
“So, you took that to mean that he had seen the body.”
“That’s right. Or, he had put it there.”
“Did he go to the Sheriff?”
“Zin and Sheriff Males didn’t quite hit it off if you know what I mean. I think Zin was tight with Billy Peters, who made the shine. Zin tells Males about the body, and the sheriff will want to know what Zin was doing out there. Better not to rock the boat since she was already dead.”
“Did he ever say anything else about the body?”
“Not a word. In fact, later, he said he never said what he said. Or, if he did, he was making it up. But he wasn’t. Zin couldn’t make up a fake name, let alone a dead girl,” he explained with a shake of his head.
“If you didn’t kill her, who did?” Marcia asked.
He shrugged. “Who knows. She was a pretty girl, so I’m guessing she got into the car with the wrong man. When she didn’t put out, he killed her. Now, tell me about you two. You ever make porn movies? You know, where you kiss and… stuff?”
He leered at them some more.
“You like girl-on-girl porn?” Margo asked.
“Oh, yeah, that’s really hot. It’s even hotter ‘cause we don’t have access to that kind of thing here in stir.”
“Pity. I was going to give you a link to see us in action.”
“You can give it to me anyway. Maybe I can find a way to look at it.”
“Oh, we wouldn’t want you to get in trouble.”
He laughed. “You’re jerking me around, and I know it. But I don’t care. Just being in the same room with you is making me stiff, if you know what I mean.”
“That’s why they chain your hands to the top of the table.”
“That’s right, sister, that’s right.”
They left soon after, with Marcia driving away from the prison while Margo stared out of the window.
“What do you think? Liar?” Margo asked.
“Who do you think taught him to lie like that?”
“I don’t think he needed to be taught. Children lie. We lied.”
“Yes, but most people grow up and stop lying, for the most part.”
“Lying becomes a strategy. People discover that lying can be helpful. In the long-term, lying is counterproductive. People learn not to trust you. But if your deadline is tomorrow, then lying works.”
“So, what you’re saying is that while we know Kosinski is lying, we still have to run down Zinder?”
“We were going to anyway. I mean, he’s married to Tanya. We would’ve done it, just to verify what Tanya told us.”
“You’re right. Do you have the feeling that we’re grinding out a lot of miles and gas, and we’re not going anywhere?”
“It’s always like that in the beginning. If the investigation were easy, someone else would have done it by now. How’s your head?”
“A little headache. Probably from not eating. We should probably check on Becky, shouldn’t we?”
“It would be the neighborly thing to do.”
“I’ll call. We’ll pick up dinner and take it to her.”
“That’s a great idea. Maybe, it will bring back a memory or something.”
“Maybe, she’ll tell us how to reach her ex. Given what we know, we have to talk to him.”
“I’m not looking forward to it.”
“No, no one wants to chat with a father who has the hots for his teenage daughter.”
“I think a lot of dads get a sudden fantasy about their daughters. Luckily, most of them push that fantasy out of their heads.”
“The better question is how many teenage girls have a fantasy about their dads?”
“Not many. I mean, most dads don’t look like the hunks on the football team. Which girl wants a fat, old man?”
Margo laughed. “God, it would be like having the hots for your teacher. No, thanks.”
“Call Becky. Tell her we’re starving, and we have to talk to her. We’ll do that over dinner.”
“We don’t have much to tell her.”
“Doesn’t matter. The goal here is to get her to eat something.”
