Murder Creek

by Jane Suen

  I was alone with Jim. “You didn’t know?”

  “No, not all of it.”

  “This was a surprise?”

  “The last few times we met, I could tell she was tense. Different. The carefree days of our childhood and youth were a distant memory,” said Jim. “I thought I could make her feel better, and I did in my way … but it only complicated matters.”

  I listened to him talk, knowing how he had felt about Lacey.

  He gripped my hand. A quick clasp, his eyes moist with tears. All I could do was give Jim a hug. The floodgates opened, and he sobbed uncontrollably, heaving deeply. I felt his grief, his pent-up feelings. I felt sorry for him. I just couldn’t do anything for him. I said nothing. I just let him sob—sob his heart out, thinking of the anguish of a lover, a friend. A gap that time could not heal. It had come back to him.

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered. It was all I could think of to say. I had no words left. I felt sad for Lacey. And I felt his loss, one he held in his heart all these years.

  Chapter 36

  I DECIDED TO follow the money trail. One place I hadn’t looked. Now I wanted to see the business records. “Jim, your dad’s business … do you know where the records are kept?”

  He looked at me, remnants of tears leaving a trace on his cheeks. “What?” He appeared confused.

  “His pizza business records.”

  “He kept them in his office,” Jim said. “He turns over the paper ledger books, financials and receipts to his tax accountant, but keeps the records for maybe seven years.” He rubbed his eyes and straightened up. “Why are you asking?”

  “I’d like to see them, please,” I said.

  “I’m not sure we’d even have those. I’d have to check with some people, and my brother, of course.”

  “I don’t mean all the local businesses he owns. I’d like to start with the Pizza GoKing.”

  Jim scratched his head, his eyes sharper and clearer now. “I’ll have to check on it. First thing tomorrow morning, on Monday.” His demeanor turned businesslike all of a sudden. I felt him withdraw.

  “Okay,” I said, attempting to sound casual. I didn’t know what else to say. “Let me know what they say.” I really didn’t know what I was searching for, but the pizza place was looming as an important piece of the puzzle, especially after what I learned from the brothers. I wrote my number on a blank page and tore it off. “Call me tomorrow. I’ll come by the office.”

  “I can’t promise when, but you’ll hear from me before the day is over,” he said.

  Fair enough. I figured I’d be able to see the records by Tuesday at the latest. I kept my schedule open for that day, anyway. Meanwhile, I wanted to go back and talk to Sally. But not just yet.

  I was finding pieces of who Lacey was, but getting no closer to what happened to her that last day after she got off her shift at midnight—the time between midnight and four in the afternoon the next day, when she was due back to work.

  I had one more question for Jim. I touched his arm, and he looked surprised. I had been told my smile could disarm a man. Okay, I just thought it would booster my courage; I hadn’t really disarmed any man. “You said you loved Lacey,” I said gently. “Do you still miss her?”

  He turned his face away.

  “Is that why you never married?” I had guessed, but I wanted to hear him say it.

  “I can’t …”

  “You can’t what?”

  The more he tried to speak, the more agitated he got.

  “Look, it’s fine,” I said. “You don’t have to tell me now.” I thought Jim was still crying over her. That’s some love, after all these years.

  Chapter 37

  THE CALL HAD finally come. I had left messages for a Clint Madden, actually for two Clints. I didn’t know who would call me first. “Hello,” I said in my most pleasant, beguiling voice.

  “You’re looking for me?”

  “I’d like to talk to Clint Madden.”

  “Speaking.”

  “I will ask a few questions to be sure you’re the one I’m looking for,” I said as I pulled out a file. I spread the newspaper interviews out on the table in my room.

  With the picture of his smiling face in front of me, I asked, “Have you ever been interviewed by newspapers?”

  He paused. “What’s this really about?”

  I detected a hint of caution or confusion. “Lacey Walken, do you know her?”

  “Is this some kind of joke?” He snorted. “Look, Eve, or whoever you really are. I thought you were someone else. Don’t ever call me again.”

  I pulled my cell phone away from my ear as his voice rose, then he ended the call.

  Must not be the right one, then.

  I had scribbled several more numbers on the paper next to his name, with question marks. Wasting no time, I tried again. The second number rang and rang. I expected it to go into voicemail, but it didn’t. I snarled and ended the call.

  Clint Madden could be anywhere. I hadn’t the slightest idea. I chewed on my pencil and frowned. My mother used to ream me out for ruining all the pencils she bought for me. I was the only kid in school who showed up on the first day with a pencil box full of teeth marks on each pencil. Some people chewed gum. I chewed pencils. Even now, I hadn’t been able to shake this habit. Sometimes when I’m really stressed, I’ll clamp down so hard I can almost taste the lead.

  But I wasn’t a quitter. I’d work my butt off even harder if I couldn’t figure out something. I called every number I had scribbled down, even the ones I’d tried yesterday, but got no answer. It seemed I wasn’t getting anywhere, but as I was thinking this, my phone rang.

  A man’s breezy voice sounded like he’d been running. “Just saw your number pop up as a missed call.”

  “Oh yes, are you Clint Madden?”

  “The Clint Madden,” he said.

  “The one from Murder Creek?”

  There was a slight pause. “You read the articles?”

  I relaxed and mouthed a silent “Thank you.” “Yes, I have them spread out in front of me. I’m doing research on the Lacey Walken disappearance.” I was grinning broadly for no one to see.

  He whistled long and slow. “Well, I’ll be …” He paused. “Why are you digging that one up? It’s been long forgotten.”

  “I’m doing a project and writing an article. And seeing how you were, um, so prominent in the news, I had to talk to you. Could you tell me a bit about Lacey, how you met her?”

  “I was a few years older than Lacey, but not by much, so I didn’t really know her from school,” he said. “The first time I met her—she blew me away. I mean, she was stunning, the way she walked, her long hair flowing.”

  “Where … at the pizza place?”

  “Yep, she had walked in looking for a job. I was working behind the counter, and I pulled out an application and had her fill it out on the spot.”

  “Were you the manager?”

  “I was the assistant manager,” he said with a hint of pride.

  “She got the job?”

  “Started the next day,” he said, quickly adding, “After she left, the boss man’s son called. I already thought she was someone special, so you know, she got hired right away, anyway.”

  “And how was she as an employee?”

  “Seeing this was her first job and all, I had to teach her the ropes. But she was a quick learner … I heard some people complained I was spending too much time with her, but it was the training.”

  “Did you fraternize with her outside of work, or was it strictly work-related?”

  “Hey, I didn’t do nothing wrong. Don’t you go pointing fingers at me. She and I got along just fine.”

  I let it go for now. I’d ask again later. I rustled through the papers, finding the one that showed his smiling face in front of the pizza joint. “It says here in the papers you were the last one to see her that day when her shift ended at midnight.”

  “That’s right. We closed out the pl
ace together. I did the register, and we both cleaned up. It was more like almost one in the morning when we walked out.”

  “Is midnight when you normally close?”

  “No, only on weekends. During the week we close earlier, at nine.”

  “Do you remember what happened next?”

  “Like I told the sheriff, we parted ways then. I assumed she went home, and that’s where I went.”

  “Did she say anything, or did you notice anything different?”

  He took a moment to answer. I could almost imagine him scrunching his eyes and trying to think. “Now that you mention it, she was quieter than usual. I mean, she wasn’t a real chatty type of person, but she’d talk. I could tell she was a bit moody.”

  “She confided in you?”

  “Nah, I didn’t pry either.”

  “Any guesses?”

  “Not any I’d like to venture. Look, I’ve gone over what I know, what’s in the newspapers.”

  “I’m hoping you could help me shed some light on it,” I said. “Put this to rest.”

  “You know she was living with this girl, Sally. Have you talked to her?”

  “Yes. Oh, and one more thing, I heard Lacey became full-time. Can you talk about that?”

  “It wasn’t long after she started. When Lacey became full-time, she quit school.”

  “What did you think about that?”

  “I was happy for her, of course. I had trained her, and I was her boss.”

  “Did you get promoted?”

  “Around that time, yes. The papers quoted me as ‘the manager.’”

  “I wasn’t sure if they meant the assistant manager, or if you had become the manager.”

  “The manager.”

  “Where are you now?”

  “I’m living in the city, about a two to three-hour drive away.”

  “Oh, that’s close. Maybe we can meet if we need to talk again?” I was thinking I could wrap up my work here and leave on Wednesday.

  “Just let me know.”

  Chapter 38

  JIM HAD LEFT me a text while I was talking, letting me know I could come by and see the books. The morning kept getting better. Jim gave me the address to Travis Madison’s residence. That was where his dad had his office. I stopped by the diner to grab a sandwich.

  To call it impressive would be an understatement. The home was a downsized miniature version of a mansion, surrounded by a lush green manicured lawn, trimmed hedges, and colorful flowers, and rimmed by a fence. As the gate opened, I drove up the circular driveway.

  Jim was waiting for me, the front door partly opened. I clutched my lunch bag, slung the backpack over my shoulder, and scooted out of my car. I basked in the sight of the beautifully landscaped lawn and inhaled a deep breath, smelling the fresh air tinged with nature’s perfume.

  “You made it. Please come in,” said Jim, greeting me warmly.

  He held the door open and gestured for me to come inside. The entryway was every bit as impressive with a spiral staircase winding its way up, disappearing above the tall ceiling. It was quiet. The curtains were pulled back, the rooms bright with sunlight beaming in.

  “Would you like a tour?”

  I jumped at the offer and followed Jim as he regaled me with the history of the house. He pointed out the details of the workmanship where his dad had insisted on the best, importing the finest marble from Italy, shale for the fireplace, and tiles from France. His dad had been involved with every aspect of the planning and design.

  Standing in this man’s passionate masterpiece, I felt a lingering trace of his presence, and a sadness.

  Chapter 39

  WE WALKED OUT to the garden and sat in the gazebo. I ate my lunch outside amongst the busy bees and the canvas of colorful flowers, enjoying the gentle breeze.

  “This was his idea,” said Jim.

  “Hmm?” I mumbled, my mouth full of the egg salad sandwich.

  “The gazebo. He hired an architect to design and build it.” Jim pointed to the features on the ceiling and the carving on the lattice piece around it. “Every detail. He had an eye for beauty.”

  “I wish I had a chance to meet him,” I said, then almost regretted saying it.

  “Well, he was just like everybody else. He had his good side and bad. And he had something else—his greatness,” said Jim. He spoke in a low voice as he reminisced. “He raised us with an iron hand. We were his children, but he expected more from us, more than the magnificent pieces he created.”

  I paused as I took the last bite and finished my sandwich. “But you loved him?”

  “Yes, but I also hated him,” Jim said, not with meanness, but with the clarity of a man who had chosen his words and spoken the truth.

  “I’m sorry for your pain.”

  “Let’s go inside, shall we?” Jim said abruptly, standing up. I gathered my things and followed him inside to his father’s office.

  On an ornate, massive wooden desk, two books had been laid out next to a small stack of papers. Jim pointed to them. “The Pizza GoKing closed shortly after Lacey’s disappearance. My dad kept just the last year’s set of books on the business. He was an old-fashioned guy and preferred the paper ledger books. You’ll find sales, orders, and payroll information there. Please have a seat and let me know if there’s anything else you need.”

  I made myself comfortable and took out my notepad and pencil, ready to plunge in. I checked the time, and it was already half-past one in the afternoon. I hunkered down and got to work, opening the first book. I glanced through it, scanning the dates, the last twelve months of entries. I quickly picked up the second book, going through the entries until I got to the date they hired her, the day after Lacey first walked through the door of Pizza GoKing. It was there: her starting salary, her hours, and her first pay. I scribbled that down in my notebook and looked for the next notation on her change to full-time hours. I made a note of her new salary, the hours, and her pay. It was more than double her starting salary. What Clint said, I verified it.

  I picked up the papers neatly stacked in a small pile; the timesheets from the last month. I flipped the pages to find the last week Lacey had worked. I ran my fingers slowly down the columns to find Lacey’s time in, time out, and number of hours. She had worked an eight-hour shift from four in the afternoon to midnight the weekend before. My finger quivered as I located the entries on her last day. I stopped, taking a breath before I looked at Lacey’s timesheet on the last day she had worked.

  Lacey didn’t work the full eight-hour shift that night. She had left early—two hours before her shift ended.

  Chapter 40

  I HAD TALKED to Clint, and he’d smoothly answered all my questions, and deflected and pointed fingers at Sally. Granted, I didn’t get warm fuzzy feelers when I talked to Sally, but Clint had sounded so convincing. I grabbed my backpack and rummaged through to find his file.

  I quickly spread out the articles on the desk and scanned them, looking for when Lacey last worked. It was there. They reported the last shift she worked was the evening shift, the four to midnight. I reread the stories carefully, especially where Clint had been quoted. Crap! I had assumed she worked to midnight, but it was mentioned only in reference to the shift. There was nothing in print she left prior to midnight before her shift ended. I got up, pacing the floor. I walked up to the window and looked out across the lawn, seeing the gazebo and the lovely view. I had found this two-hour aberration to my original timeline. Lacey had left early. I wondered why Clint lied. Suddenly I could not wait to go back to the city. I had to see him and get some answers. But I also needed to talk to Sally again.

  I closed the book, and I wandered out to the hallway, looking for Jim. He was sitting in the front room, waiting for me.

  “Find what you needed?” he asked.

  I nodded. “Listen, thank you for your help,” I said, fumbling for my car keys. “I’m leaving town tomorrow.”

  “Will you be back?”

  I licked
my lips. “I plan to.”

  Chapter 41

  I DROVE BACK to the motel and made my way to the front lobby, hoping to see Randy. I wondered if he lived on-site. I didn’t see him at the counter. I dinged the bell. To my relief, the back door opened, and he stepped out.

  “What can I help you with?” Randy said, easing into his chair.

  “I’d like to leave a day early. I paid for three nights, Sunday through Tuesday, leaving Wednesday. I’d like to leave on Tuesday instead.”

  Randy turned on the computer and checked. “I can make the change. Will you be coming back?”

  “I think I may come back for a short stay, but I don’t know for sure yet.”

  “When you check out tomorrow, I’ll give you the refund.”

  I mumbled, “Thank you” and went to my room. I threw my backpack on the table and sprawled on the bed, arms wide, looking at the ceiling. In my heart of hearts, I felt I was getting closer to the truth. I was getting to know Lacey too. I felt for her, what she struggled with. What could have made her leave work early? Why did Clint lie to me? Did he think I’d just go along with what he said and what was reported, and not question it?

  I closed my eyes and dozed off as the afternoon sun warmed the windows. The image of Murder Creek returned as my eyelids fluttered. I saw the men sitting around a campfire. I heard the crackling as flames licked and danced. It was darker, night already, no longer dusk. The stars were peeking out. I couldn’t see the creek, but I could hear the faint sound of water flowing. The men were laughing; some drank, others stretched out, their stomachs full of food.

  I saw the group of men sitting with the strangers who had joined them. They were talking. Soon, one of the visitors got up, said something to the others; the strangers made ready to leave. The men got ready for bed, sleeping under the tree and around the fire, using their saddlebags as pillows.