Kill Her Twice

by G A Pickstock

  Alan nodded. “Ya, that’s right, and the bitch left the following January. What are you getting at?”

  Colm caught the change in Alan’s demeanour. He was getting defensive. “OK, I think I have enough for now. Oh, yes, one more thing; you say Mark Taylor had words with Roy. Did Roy know him?”

  “No. It struck me funny too. Roy knew about Mark, but he’d never met him. It really was odd that they should be in the pub at the same time as we were. He just couldn’t believe that I had nothing to do with that.”

  “Last thing, I promise. Where were you on the night Kallita disappeared?”

  It was the wrong question to ask. Alan stood quickly, his chair scraping against the hardwood floor. “I think I’ll show you out now. I’ve told you enough. Kallita’s gone, dead, buried, I don’t know. I’m not going to sit here and debate it with you or anybody else. I’ve told you what I know. Next time you want to talk to me, it will be with my lawyer present.”

  Alan ushered Colm to the back door. He watched through the windows as the Black-flies attacked the young detective getting into his car. He’s driving a Mini - when did the OPP start driving Minis? Something’s not right here. Alan pulled his cell phone from his pocket and dialled a number.

  “Mike, I think you’re going to get a visit from a cop. It’s about Kallita—yeah, I know. Listen, don’t say a word to him. I’m gonna call Phil. If this cop stops by your place, give him Phil’s number and keep your mouth shut.”

  Chapter 11

  “So you see Emily, there’s more people than me that would like to see Kallita come to a nasty end. You know my story now. She screwed me over but good. She wrecked my friendship with Roy and made my life a living hell for a long time. Martha and I got over it. Kallita was long gone by the time we patched things up, but you’ve got a lot more out there with bigger reasons than mine. If what you tell me is true, I’d get that detective of yours to check out your boss and maybe even Kallita’s ex.”

  Emily was riveted to her chair. Jim hadn’t wanted to talk at first, but once he started, he wouldn’t shut up. Not wanting to give him a chance to think about what he was saying, she let him rattle on for more than an hour, almost two. She’d had two cups of coffee and coffee had a way of working on her system that wasn’t pleasant. She needed a bathroom and soon. Not wanting to use Jim’s, she thanked him for his candour and hurried home, leaving Jim open-mouthed at the door wondering at her abrupt departure.

  An hour later Emily emerged from her condo to find a newspaper stuck in her mailbox. As she sat in her car and opened the paper. The front-page headline jumped off the page.

  Where is Kallita Prewitt? - New Evidence Opens 25-Year-Old Case!

  When Emily James decided to plant a new garden, she had no idea someone had already planted the seeds of an unsolved mystery. Twenty-five years ago, Kallita Prewitt, an accountant working for one of Clarksville's top accounting firms, vanished without a trace. All efforts to locate her or to discover her fate failed. The case has languished in Clarksville’s OPP dead-case file for a quarter of a century. So why do we care?

  This reporter has learned that Kallita Prewitt had many enemies. When she disappeared, no one seemed too concerned. Kallita’s memory faded into the background until Emily unearthed an old leather purse while digging in her garden one afternoon. Her discovery brings to light more questions about Kallita Prewitt’s vanishing. Why was her handbag buried in Emily’s back yard? Who put it there? And what happened to the most hated woman in town? Emily is determined to find the owner of the black leather bag, but so far, her efforts to find Kallita Prewitt have failed. It is feared by those who knew Kallita that she met a gruesome end, but no one knows for sure. If you have any information regarding Kallita, please contact Crime Stoppers or the local detachment of the OPP.

  * * *

  Emily couldn’t stop reading it. Over and over again, the headline screamed at her making her realize that she may well have overstepped her bounds, quite possibly putting Colm and herself in a precarious position. Jesus Julie, what have you done? All I wanted was a short write-up on the community notes page. Not a full-blown front-page exposé. “Shit! Colm will kill me when he sees this. Shit!” Pulling her phone from her purse, she dialled Julie’s number. It was already too late to close the barn door, but she had to say something.

  “Julie, my God! I saw your write-up.”

  “It was a good piece, wasn’t it?” Julie’s voice bubbled with excitement.

  “I didn’t expect you to put it on the front page. Gee whizz, you realize that you might have put the police on the spot, don’t you? I told you that they weren’t very interested in that purse. The only one who shows any interest at all is Colm. I think he’s more interested in me than in finding the owner of that purse.”

  “That might be true,” Julie giggled. “But there’s a lot more to the story than you know. My editor knows it well. He covered the Kallita story at the time she went missing. He always felt that the police really didn’t try too hard to find her. When I told him all I wanted to do was a public interest piece, he insisted on the front page. Oh, and guess what?”

  “I can’t imagine. What?” Emily waited for the other shoe to drop.

  “Gerry—that’s my editor—fed it to the Metro Star in Toronto. They are going to run it in the police and courts section. It will get province-wide, if not national, exposure. My name is on the byline. I’m getting all the recognition for the story. Isn’t that fantastic? I can’t thank you enough!”

  Emily shivered as a chill ran down her spine. An empty pit formed in her stomach and her earlier gastric problems threatened to return. Without a doubt, she had made a serious error in judgement when she involved Julie. Her zeal to be part of Colm’s investigation might be the catalyst to bring it all to a screeching halt. She had to get Julie to back off. Maybe she could limit the fallout from all the publicity.

  “Jules, I need you to do me a huge favour.”

  “Anything for you, hon. What is it you need?”

  “Ease up on this story—kill it if possible. If you push this too far, I have a bad feeling some people are going to be hurt by it. Kallita Prewitt hurt a lot of people in this town, and I’m beginning to think it would be better to forget about it. She’s been gone a long time, maybe it should stay that way. What do you say?”

  “Can’t do it! Anything but that, Em. My boss has his teeth into this. It’s not me now, it’s him. He’s got me a meeting with the OPP on Monday.”

  Emily fell silent. Her spirit deflated, the cold reality of the situation washed over her, and all she could do was stare off into nothing.

  “Em—are you still there—hello?”

  Emily heard Julie’s voice somewhere in the distance. “I’ve gotta go.”

  Before calling Julie, she had intended to visit Mark Taylor, but now she didn’t know what to do. She wanted to see Colm but was afraid of how he might react. Still, he needed to know what Jim had told her about Mark and Mary Taylor and Frieda. There was a lot to talk about, not the least of which would be the newspaper article. Emily cringed as the thought crossed her mind again.

  * * *

  Mike Prewitt lived in a rambling century-old house in the centre of town. He had spent the better part of the last quarter-century restoring the old place to original condition. Because the woodwork and trim in the house had been made by a local furniture manufacturer that had long since closed its doors, Mike spent many hours scrounging old materials from homes of the same period. Many of these older homes had undergone modern upgrades. Whenever he saw a house with a construction van parked outside, he would stop and inquire as to the nature of the project, many times offering his help with demolition in return for the old woodwork and hardware.

  Consequently, the exterior of his home always resembled a construction site with materials and vehicles strewn about the yard. Colm had to park on the street, and although the Mini Cooper was small, he was always nervous that someone might run into it. Walking up to the
front door, he observed the curtain in the front window move. His arrival had not gone unnoticed. The door opened as he approached, and a pretty young woman stood in the opening.

  “Can I help you?” Her long blond hair draped over her shoulders, blowing in the breeze as the air rushed in through the doorway.

  “Are you Mrs. Prewitt?” Colm couldn’t imagine Mike’s wife being so young. Mike Prewitt had to be in his mid-fifties by now. “I’m looking for Mike—er— Mr. Michael Prewitt.”

  She grinned, “No, I’m his daughter. Dad is working in the kitchen. Who might you be?”

  Colm showed her his badge. “Detective Sergeant Colm O’Byrne, Clarksville OPP. I want a word with your father if I may.”

  “A policeman! Oh my, yes, please wait here, I’ll fetch him for you.” She turned and walked back into the house, leaving the door open. “Dad, there’s a policeman at the door. He wants to talk to you.”

  Mike Prewitt emerged from a doorway at the far end of the hallway. He was shorter than his brother and smaller framed. His dark, brown hair was cut short and a red sweatband encompassed his forehead. Wiping his hands with a rag, his eyes locked on the detective’s badge as he approached.

  “What can I do for you, detective? If this is about Kallita, I’ve nothing to say.”

  Well, isn’t that grand! “So, I take it your brother has called you then.”

  Mike nodded, “That’s right, and there’s no point in discussing this any further. Anything we might have to say will have to be with our lawyer present.”

  Colm shook his head and sighed, “You’re welcome to consult your lawyer, but I don’t understand your reluctance to speak to me. All I’m trying to do is find the woman. I would think you would want to have this situation resolved. But if you won’t speak to me, then I guess I’ll have to get a court order.” He turned to walk away.

  “Why should I talk to you? She’s gone, and she needs to stay gone.”

  Fair play, Michael had taken the bait. Colm had him talking now; all he had to do was keep it that way.

  “Well, unless you’ve something to hide, there’s no reason why you shouldn’t. All I’m trying to do is put an end to this whole messy affair. And if I can get the answers I need, I can do that, put an end to it—full stop.”

  It was like magic. Colm watched as the man’s demeanor softened and his whole attitude did a one-eighty.

  “You might as well come inside. I don’t know what I can say that will help, though. I really don’t know much about that time.”

  “Why don’t you let me be the judge?” Colm stepped into the hallway as Mike led him into what would have been the parlour at one time.

  An hour later, Colm was ready to wrap it up. Mike had nothing new to add to what they already knew. It was time to move on.

  “Well, I guess that about does it. If there’s nothing more you can think of, then I’ll be on my way.” Colm stood to make his exit.

  “Yeah, I guess I’ve told you everything.” Mike rose to see the detective out.

  “Oh, there is one more thing. Do you have anything to do with Mark Taylor? I forgot to mention him earlier, and I meant to ask.” Colm stood in the doorway, noting Mike’s reaction.

  “Me? No, I didn’t know Mark other than I would recognize him around the plant where we worked. He was in a different division. Alan knew him, he an—” Mike clammed up.

  Colm saw something in Mike’s eyes. Fear? No, panic, he’d said something he shouldn’t have. Colm pounced on the statement.

  “And?” He began the sentence for Mike to finish.

  “Ehm, well—ah—the day we all got together—on his birthday—Roy and I saw him talking to Mark and his wife when we walked into the pool room. It looked to me like they were deep into something. As soon as he saw us come in, he ended it. I thought it was strange, and when Roy challenged Mark, Al made out like he had no idea who Mark was.”

  Mike cast his gaze to the floor, his cheeks flushed and Colm knew the man had said too much. It was true. Family loves to talk.

  * * *

  Saturday June 18, 2016 - Toronto, Ontario

  Kallita Prewitt hadn’t entered Diane Dorsette’s mind in decades. Yet reading the name in the Metro star triggered memories as vivid as if they had happened yesterday. Her heart raced as she read the story in the paper. Memories of a tumultuous time spun in her mind as she digested the words in the article. So Kallita Prewitt, after all these years, why have you come back into my life again? And what of all those people? All those enemies who hated you so much? I shall have to remedy this. But how?

  She spread the cards out on the table before her. The Tarot had never steered her wrong. She always trusted them. The first one flipped over; the Death card. Kallita dead? She turned the second card over: the Fool—A journey? It appears I’m taking a trip. The third card, The Reversed Queen of Swords: Have it your own way? She turned over the fourth card and finally understood what she needed to do. That settles it then. The Tarot was never wrong. Diane had a job to do. She would leave immediately.

  Chapter 12

  Walking through the woods was like being with an old friend. The silence of the forest spoke volumes as Roy wandered through familiar patches, remembering the times when he and the children would explore the property. Roger darted in and out among the trees and brush, picking up a myriad of scents which sent him one way and then another. Bill Peters had opened some old wounds, and he needed the solitude of the woods to think. Life with Kallita had been a roller coaster ride. Some good, some bad—mostly bad near the end.

  They had met at a mutual friend’s birthday party in Toronto. Roy was a student in college and Kallita had returned to Toronto after a nasty divorce. They hit it off right away. She wasn’t shy by anyone’s standards, and Roy liked that about her. She spoke her mind leaving no doubt about where she stood on any issue. Many were put off by her candour, but Roy was able to see past it. He believed that somewhere, hidden behind the wall of indifference and intolerance was a caring, possibly even frightened, young woman who needed someone to love her and someone whom she could love. Many times he’d argued with his brothers about it. They couldn’t get past her outer shell and wouldn’t concede that he might be right.

  Their relationship became more and more serious as the months progressed. Kallita knew that if she wanted to get Roy to tie the knot, she would have to win his family over. It wasn’t something she relished doing, but she wanted Roy. Making his parents like her was easy. She had an engaging ability to blend in, and so, while visiting one weekend, she simply made herself at home. She helped with dinner and clearing up afterwards, while the men sat talking in the living room. By the time they left, Roy’s parents had accepted her with open arms. Totally euphoric at the success of the visit, Roy insisted that they marry right away. A few weeks later, they were married in a quiet private ceremony in Toronto. His parents were not pleased.

  Moving back to Clarksville hadn’t helped. The opportunity concerning the diner met rigorous opposition from Kallita. She finally relented, but Roy had his doubts about his wife’s commitment to making the enterprise a success, and doubts about their marriage had already crept in.

  Roy understood his family’s displeasure at the sudden nuptials, and despite their efforts to the contrary, it was easy to spot their distaste for Kallita. She sensed it as well and openly displayed her indifference to their feelings. She had done a complete reversal to the initial visit and Roy was beginning to observe a side of his wife that he never suspected existed. It drove a wedge between him and his family to the point where they rarely saw each other. Christmas and other special occasions came and went without so much as a phone call. His parents were devastated, and they blamed Kallita for alienating their son against them.

  Roy’s parents finally acquiesced to the marriage and accepted Kallita into the family doing all they could to make her feel welcome. Regardless, they rarely saw the grandchildren, and when they did see Roy, Kallita was noticeably absent. Roy’s brothers
viewed the situation from a different perspective. They knew about Kallita’s reputation from scuttlebutt around the tire plant. Mark Taylor was well known there, and the circumstances of his marriage to Kallita had been a source of widespread gossip.

  Stopping at the crest of a low ridge, he remembered sitting for hours with Dustin, waiting for a big buck to appear. Dustin had been excited to finally be included in dad’s hunting trip, but when the time came, and he had the big ten pointer in his sights, Dustin tugged at his coat, imploring his dad not to shoot. They walked home that day and ate chili instead of venison, and neither was disappointed. Roy smiled at the memory. Dustin had taught him a great lesson that day. Sometimes it was enough to spend time with those in your life that mattered. As dear as that memory was to him, another not so pleasant time quickly forced its way into his thoughts…

  * * *

  March 1984

  They’d hit it off right away, and it wasn’t long before they were a couple. Hamilton was a great place to live, and it was close to everything Kallita craved. Kallita wasn’t fussy on Clarksville. She hated the place, and she made no secret of it. Like their courtship, visits home were short and sweet. They were in love, and after the wedding, they settled into a small apartment looking forward to a happy life together. Until Roy got the offer.

  He knew he’d be in for a battle, but the offer was a good one, and he believed they could weather any storm.

  “You’re joking, right?” Kallita argued. She crossed her arms and turned her back on him.

  “No. It’s not a joke. It’s a good offer, Kally. It’s a chance to get into business for my—ourselves. And we won’t have to come up with any money. It’s a good opportunity for us.”

  An old family friend owned a successful diner in Clarksville and wanted to retire. He offered Roy a partnership with an eye to complete ownership after five years. All he had to do was agree to specific terms of payment. After five years, the diner would be his.