by Terri Reid
“Oh, are you meeting Mel?” the hostess asked.
Margo nodded. “Yes, I am.”
She inclined her head towards the back. “He’s back here,” she said. “I’ll show you.”
They passed a few other tables with customers, passed the salad bar and finally arrived in the far corner of the room at a secluded booth. “Here we go,” the hostess said.
Melvin stood up and smiled. “Margo, it’s so wonderful to see you again.”
“Hello, Melvin” she replied, hoping her smile reached her eyes. “Thank you for inviting me to lunch.”
“Please, have a seat,” he offered, waiting until she sat before he did. “Did you get a chance to look at the list I gave you?”
“Yes,” she said, reaching into her purse and pulling it out. “It was quite comprehensive.” She leaned forward and lowered her voice. “I really didn’t know the Kochs very well,” she said. “Passing acquaintances really. But this list paints an entirely different picture of them than I had. Did you know them very well?”
“Well, I’m fairly new to the area,” he said. “I just moved here about ten years ago. But I think I have a pretty good instinct about people.”
Margo nodded. “Do you?” she asked.
Sitting back in his seat with a self-satisfied look on his face, he nodded. “Yeah, some people might actually accidentally think that I was a detective,” he said.
Margo bit back a smile. “Really? A detective?”
“Yeah, I’ve got a real knack about people, a real knack,” he said.
“Well, perhaps we could go down this list,” she said, sliding the list towards him. “Which of these people do you think would be on the top of your suspect list?”
Melvin looked down the list, a frown on his face. “Well, you know, I would hate to get any of these folks in trouble,” he said.
“But if they killed Frasier and Shirley,” Margo replied.
Melvin shrugged. “Well, really, I’m not too sure they killed anyone,” he hedged.
“But I thought you gave me this list because you thought these people are potential suspects,” she said.
Melvin cleared his throat and looked around the room. “Well,” he said, turning back to Margo, “actually…”
He broke off when the waitress approached. “Oh, good,” he said with a relieved sigh. “We should order.” He turned his attention to the waitress. “What’s the special today?”
“Meatloaf,” the waitress replied. “One of our best sellers.”
“That sounds great,” Melvin said. “I’ll take the meatloaf.” He smiled at Margo. “How about you? My treat.”
Margo turned to the waitress. “I’ll have the chef salad,” she said, “with ranch dressing on the side.”
When the waitress left with their order, Margo turned to Melvin. “Melvin, do you actually have any idea of who could have killed Frasier and Shirley?” she asked.
He shrugged. “Well, you know, any of those people could have,” he said. “I mean, anyone can be a murderer given the right motivation.”
Margo paused as a chill ran down her spine. “What do you mean?”
Melvin looked away for a moment, as if he was gathering his thoughts. “You know, some people just want to be left alone,” he explained. “Some people move somewhere new to, you know, start a new life. They don’t need people looking at their past.”
“Was Frasier looking into someone’s past?” she asked.
His jaw tightened for a moment, and then he took a deep breath. He smiled tightly and shrugged. “Well, who knows what he was looking into,” Melvin said easily. “And if he was, he took that information with him to the grave.”
Chapter Thirty-one
Lunch seemed to take an eternity in Margo’s point of view, but it was actually over within an hour. She thanked Melvin for his hospitality and insisted that she pay for her own meal. He actually looked relieved, and she was glad she’d taken Butch’s advice and brought extra money.
She excused herself and went to the ladies room until Melvin left, and then she walked to the back of the restaurant to join Stanley and Rosie in their car.
“How did it go?” Stanley asked.
Margo shook her head. “That is one strange man,” she said. “He’s got some secrets that he desperately doesn’t want anyone to find out about. But I don’t know if he’s capable of killing anyone.”
“But what about the list?” Rosie asked. “What about all those names?”
“I think that list was a wild goose chase,” Margo said. “When I tried to pin him down, he backed away from all of the names. I think it was more to impress me than to give us any solid evidence.”
“So, it was a waste of time,” Stanley said.
“Well,” Margo said with a half-smile, “I had a very nice chef salad.”
“And I bet you had to pay for it,” Rosie said.
Margo nodded. “Yes, but I preferred it that way,” she said. “I did not want to be beholden to him in any way. He does worry me a little. If he thought someone was looking into his background, he might do something drastic to protect himself.”
Stanley started the car and pulled out of the parking lot. “Where to next?” he asked.
“The ice cream parlor on South Street,” Margo said. “Not that I need ice cream.”
Rosie laughed. “Don’t worry. All this stress will burn off those calories,” she said.
Margo chuckled. “Well if that isn’t true, it should be.”
A few minutes later, Stanley pulled into the parking lot and let Margo out. “We’ll be right here,” he said. “You get up and walk out if you feel uncomfortable. You don’t owe nobody nothing.”
“Thank you, Stanley,” Margo said. “I’m sure this will be interesting.”
She walked into the parlor and saw Butch sitting in a corner booth. Walking over to join him, she slipped in the booth across from him and sighed. “I just had the most interesting lunch with Melvin,” she said immediately. “He was going to give me information about Frasier and Shirley Koch, but it turned out he didn’t know them very well at all.”
“That doesn’t surprise me,” Butch said. “I find that Melvin tends to be a bit of a windbag.”
Margo smiled sympathetically. “Well, you know, I’m sure he meant well.”
“But he wasted your time,” Butch interrupted. “Wasted your time and probably tried to flirt with you.”
Deciding that remaining silent would be the best response, Margo simply smiled.
“That’s diplomatic of you,” Butch laughed. “But we both know the guy’s a loser.”
“Did you know Frasier and Shirley?” Margo asked, changing the subject.
Butch’s smiled widened, and he inhaled deeply, reminding Margo of a bantam rooster just before he’s going to crow. “Well, to tell you the truth,” he said,, “I knew Frasier better than his wife and…” He paused dramatically. “Not to speak ill of the dead, but Frasier was a bit of an egomaniac.”
“Oh really?” Margo asked, widening her eyes to emphasize her interest while she slipped her hand into her pocket and started the small recording device Stanley had obtained for her. “An egomaniac?”
Butch nodded. “He always had to be in charge of everything,” he said. “Head of the Chamber, head of the Rotary, and he wanted to run the VFW when he knew that position should have been mine.”
“And I’m sure you were in the background doing all the work, and he was getting all the credit,” Margo encouraged.
“Yes! Yes, exactly,” Butch said. “I was always there, always helping, always making suggestions. But no one even noticed me when he was around.” He shook his head sadly. “No one realized that my personality was just as good, my ideas were just as worthy, and my devotion to the cause was just as strong.”
Margo slipped her hand across the table and covered Butch’s hand with it. “Well, I’ve noticed,” she said.
He smiled at her with such intensity, she nearly pulled her hand
back and she was more than a little relieved when the waitress stepped up to get their order.
“Hi, what can I get you?” she asked.
“Well, we really haven’t had a chance…” Butch began, turning his hand to try and capture Margo’s hand in his own.
“I’ll have a scoop of chocolate,” Margo interrupted, grabbing the menu with both hands.
“A cone or a cup?” the waitress asked.
“A cup would be perfect,” Margo replied.
“Got it,” the waitress said. “And what about you?”
“I’ll have a hot fudge sundae,” Butch said, his voice holding a note of sulkiness. “And take your time.”
Once the waitress left, Margo smiled across at him. “This is such a treat,” she said, trying to soothe his ego. “I don’t get to go out much in Deadwood.”
Somewhat pacified, Butch smiled back. “Yeah, well, you should think about staying around here,” he said. “I can guarantee that I would make sure you were always taken care of”
Margo quickly schooled her features so her dislike wouldn’t show. “I can only imagine,” she said. “You must be quite a man about town here in Freeport. Did you know Frasier all your life? Was he always such an attention hog?”
Butch nodded. “Yes,” he said emphatically. “Yes. Exactly. All my life Frasier was around hogging all the attention. He was the quarterback; I was on the school paper. He was the lead in the play; I built sets. He was homecoming king; I stayed home.”
“Oh, Butch, I’m so sorry,” Margo said, understanding the man a little more. “It must have been hard to live in someone’s shadows all those years.”
His eyes snapped on hers with anger. “I was not in anyone’s shadow,” he insisted. “I held my own. I was important. I was smarter than he was. And that’s what really counts, isn’t it?”
Her heart jumped at the look in his eye and the intensity in his voice. She nodded meekly. “Yes, that’s exactly what counts,” she said, taking a deep breath and adding, “being cleverer than your opponent.”
He smiled, and the expression made her skin crawl. “Yes,” he said nodding. “That’s it exactly. Being cleverer. Like trapping a small animal, you have to be patient, use the right bait and wait for the right time to move in for the kill.”
She froze, her eyes wide with fear. She knew she should act normally, pass it off, but she just couldn’t.
Butch stared at her for a moment, his eyes narrowing. “Margo, is anything wrong?” he asked slowly.
Taking a deep, unsteady breath, she shook her head. “No,” she whispered, reaching for her water glass and taking a shaky sip.
“Are you sure?” he asked.
She placed the glass down, a little more in control, and nodded at him. “It’s just that I’m such an animal lover, and the idea of something being trapped,” she explained as she waved her hand in front of her eyes to dry the tears, “well, it nearly overcame me.”
His smile softened. “Oh, don’t worry,” he assured her. “I would never do something like that to animals. They’re harmless.”
She nodded and swallowed audibly. “Yes, they are,” she agreed. “Aren’t they?”
Chapter Thirty-two
With the borrowed yearbook stored safely in the back of the car, Mary and Bradley drove over to Rick’s house in one of the quiet, older, residential areas of Sycamore. They pulled up directly behind Ian’s car, which was parked at the curb.
Before Bradley could turn off the car, Ian was at Mary’s door, helping her out and enfolding her in a hug. “I kenna believe how beautiful you look,” he said. “You are simply radiant.”
“And you know just what a pregnant woman needs to hear,” Mary replied, giving him another quick hug.
Ian stood back and placed his hand over his heart. “Darling, I’m only telling the God’s own truth,” he said. “You’ve always been a lovely woman, but now you just shine.”
He glanced over at Bradley, who was walking around the car to join them. “And I’m hoping you’ve been telling her the self-same thing,” he said.
Slipping his arm around Mary, Bradley nodded. “Every single day,” he said. “Although I think she just believes it’s false flattery coming from me.”
Mary blushed. “Okay, enough, both of you,” she said, uncomfortable with all the praise. “You’re going to turn my head, and then I’ll have an ego as big as my belly.”
Ian chuckled and shook his head. “I won’t believe that until I see it,” he said. “Now, tell me a wee bit about your friend.”
“I’ve known Rick since high school,” Bradley said. “I guess he’s always been sensitive. Although back in high school we just called it weird.” He smiled at the memory. “Anyway, he was the one who told us his house was haunted, or that he could see things at the school. Or when we were camping, he told the ghost stories.”
Ian nodded. “So, when did he seem to change?”
“When we were overseas,” Bradley said. “In the Middle East.”
“Aye, well, that’s an ancient land that’s seen its share of war and death,” Ian said. “There are probably layers upon layers of residual spirits inhabiting the area.” He paused and looked over to the house. “And, if you’re sensitive to begin with, well then, the spirits are attracted to you.”
“Do you think you can help him?” Mary asked.
“Well, darling, I’m going to try,” Ian replied. “Shall we go up and see?”
Rick opened the door for them as they walked up the stairs. “Hi, I saw you meeting together on the sidewalk,” he said, looking at Bradley for an explanation.
“We were talking about you,” Bradley replied with a casual shrug. “Ian had a couple of questions about your…” He paused for a moment. “Paranormal I guess is the best word. Paranormal past. You know, how you used to see ghosts when you were younger.”
Rick nodded and turned to Ian. “Hi, I’m Rick,” he said.
“I’m Ian,” he replied. “And I’ve been seeing ghosts since I was a wee lad, so we have a lot in common. I’ve spent years studying paranormal activity, trying to attach some scientific interpretation to what we’re seeing and experiencing.”
“Have you had any luck?” Rick asked.
Ian grinned. “No, we’re still just the weird chaps,” he said.
Rick laughed, and Mary could see the tension disappearing with the laughter.
“Well, that’s good to know,” Rick said. “So, what are you planning on doing to me?”
“Nothing that will involve wires, electrodes or torture devices,” Ian teased.
“Well, that’s a relief,” Rick said.
“Aye, but what I’d like to do is hypnotize you,” Ian said, his tone serious. “And bring you back to when you first felt the change in you. Perhaps we can find an event that you’ve buried in your subconscious that is making you feel unhappy.”
Nodding slowly, Rick took a deep breath. “I’m a little worried,” he said.
“Aye, it’s a scary thing to be opening up wounds from the past,” he replied. “And I’ll not be upset if you decide you don’t want to do this. But, I can tell you. If you want an answer, I believe this is the best way to start.”
“Mary and I can step out,” Bradley added, “if you feel like you’d want a more private session.”
Rick shook his head. “No. No, actually, I would like it if you both stayed,” he said. “Bradley, you understand where I came from, and many of my experiences I already shared with you. So you might be able to hear something that I never told you. Something that stands out. And Mary,” he smiled at her, “I trust you. I want you here.”
She walked over and took his hand. “Thank you,” she said. “And I want you to be happy again.”
He squeezed her hand, then let it go and turned to Ian. “Okay,” he said. “What’s next?”
Ian pointed to the couch in the living room. “Why don’t you lay down on the couch and get yourself comfortable,” he said. “And then we can get started.”<
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Rick propped his head on a pillow and his feet on the arm of the couch and relaxed as if he were taking a Sunday afternoon nap. “This is good so far,” he said.
Ian chuckled. “Now, I want you to close your eyes and relax,” Ian said, his voice soothing and calm. “Let the worries you’ve been carrying slide away, off your shoulders, out of your mind and let them pool on the floor. No need to worry about them. You can pick them up later, if you’d like, but for now, just let them slide away.”
Mary could see the muscles in Rick’s shoulders loosen and his breathing change.
“Aye, that’s grand,” Ian said. “And now that those burdens are gone, I want you to float. Imagine yourself floating in a cloudless, blue sky, safe and secure, floating where no one and nothing can hurt you.”
As Ian continued to speak, Mary watched Rick’s breathing slow and become more rhythmic. He responded to Ian’s questions in a soft, sleepy voice, on the edge between asleep and awake.
“Now, Rick, how are you feeling?” Ian finally asked.
“Relaxed,” Rick replied. “Safe.”
“Good, that’s good,” Ian said. “Now, let’s go on a wee journey. You’ll still be up in the sky, safe and protected, but you’ll be able to look down on yourself and watch your life, just like a movie.”
Rick nodded.
“Let’s fly back to high school,” Ian said. “What do you see?”
Rick smiled broadly. “The guys are down there with me,” he said. “We’re walking back from a football game. Alden is such a nerd.”
Mary turned and smiled at Bradley.
“Well, that’s not so surprising, is it?” Ian asked, winking at Mary. “And what is it your gang is doing?”
“We’re going to cut through the cemetery on the way home,” he said, the tone of his voice changing, becoming more serious. “The other guys want to cut through, but I don’t want to.”
“Why not?” Ian asked.
“I don’t know,” he said. “There’s something…” He paused, and then he lifted his hand in his sleep and pointed. “There. I never saw it before, but there. That thing in the middle of the cemetery is waiting for us. Wants us to come.”
