by Kay Jennings
Driving from City Hall to Ted Frolick’s place on Ocean Bend Road, just down from his new home, the road looped around a bluff, and showcased the first view of the ocean. This afternoon, the sun reflected off the sparkling water, and the waves wore reticent little white tops. Tons of water in the waves still pounded as they hit the shoreline, but now, it was a gentler sound.
Cries emanating from the seagulls seemed softer, not as urgent. The shimmering sand looked as though no human had ever tread on it. The little wind there was caressed Matt’s skin instead of abusing it as yesterday’s gale had done.
Heading south, the virgin coastline stretched on as far as Matt’s eye could see. He wondered, not for the first time since he’d laid eyes on Oregon last month, why nobody knew about this part of the world. An incredible land of ocean, forests, rivers, lakes, and unblemished beauty, with hardly any people. No matter how this case turned out, Matt was grateful for this discovery of Port Stirling and of Oregon—it was possible he belonged here. In only one day, he felt more valued here than he ever did in Plano. And no psychopath is going to steal my future, or get away with butchering this little girl.
Pulling up in front of Frolick’s house, Matt saw a man—who must be him—coming out the front door. He was dressed in gray sweat pants, sneakers, and an old paint-splattered sweatshirt that had seen better days. A floppy hat tied under his chin. His skin beneath his silver hair was fair, and Matt figured the hat was skin-cancer protection.
Matt got out of his car and approached, ready to flash his ID, which was his Texas driver’s license.
“Hi. Are you Ted Frolick?”
“I am. And who might you be?”
Matt noted an intelligent face, and sharp, deep brown eyes. He held up his ID so that Frolick could clearly see it, and said “I’m Matt Horning. I’m the new police chief, just arrived yesterday, and this is the only official ID I have. I’d like a few minutes of your time. Is this a good time for you to talk?”
“Mr. Horning, it’s nice to meet you,” said Frolick, extending his hand to shake. “Welcome to our small burg. Please let the record show that I am cooperating with the police on this dreadful business, however, if you want to talk now, you must accompany me on my walk on the beach. We have a saying in Oregon: “When the sun comes out, go out.”
“That sounds like a smart saying, based on yesterday’s weather,” Matt laughed. “Let’s go.” He wasn’t dressed for a stroll on the beach, especially with his dress shoes on, but he decided to improvise. They headed off to the staircase across the road that led down to the beach. At the bottom of the stairs, Matt removed his shoes and socks, carrying one shoe in each hand.
“North or south?” Matt asked, letting Frolick decide on their direction.
“I’m not afraid of the crime scene, Mr. Horning, let’s go south.” Frolick looked at Matt, and Matt nodded in agreement. He was secretly glad that Frolick picked this direction because he wanted to see his reaction as they neared the taped-off tunnel. Facial tics and body language could tell a story, plus, it would have been somewhat telling if Frolick elected to go in the other direction, away from Emily’s tunnel. Emily’s tunnel, thought Matt. We can’t call that awful place by that name.
Frolick set a brisk pace and started the conversation. “Are you an educated man, Mr. Horning?”
“University of Texas, sir. Does that count?”
Frolick smiled. “It’s a fine institution of higher learning. I thought I detected a bit of a Texas drawl.”
“Where did you go to school, Mr. Frolick?”
“Oh, I’m one of those obnoxious eastern elite liberals,” he chuckled. “I went to Dartmouth, up in New Hampshire. Why haven’t you been properly announced to our fair citizenry as George’s replacement? We knew he was retiring, but we don’t know about you yet. I heard about you from Ms. Perkins.”
“That’s because I wasn’t officially supposed to start work until Tuesday,” Matt said. “But I arrived here yesterday morning, and, well, we have this murder to deal with. We didn’t have time for a big public ceremony, and it didn’t feel right anyway under the circumstances. Especially considering it’s the mayor’s daughter. I started working on the case yesterday morning immediately after Emily’s body was discovered. And that’s why I want to talk to you.” Matt looked sideways at Frolick, but there was no change in the older man’s expression.
“I’ve already told Ms. Perkins everything I know, which is, essentially, nothing that can help you,” Frolick said.
“Oh, that’s not true, Mr. Frolick.”
Frolick’s head snapped around to look at Matt.
“You may have helped us big-time,” Matt continued. “Your heads-up on Marjorie Bushnell’s affair with Craig Kenton may end up being a huge clue. Thank you for sharing that bit of information with Patty—it’s important.”
“It is intriguing, considering what’s happened, isn’t it?”
“Yes, I can’t get into specifics with you, but you did the right thing telling us. I’ve got a few questions. Let’s shift gears, if you don’t mind. Can you tell me where you were and what you were doing between the hours of 6:00 p.m. and midnight on Friday?”
“I’ve given a statement. Did you read it?” No sarcasm, just matter-of-fact.
“I’ve read it, and now I want to hear it in your own words.”
Frolick hesitated, and bent over to examine a dead starfish. It was a reddish-brown color with white spots, and cracked in a couple of places. After a pause of several seconds, he said “I went to the store’s deli and bought my dinner, came home, ate it while I listened to some music. Vivaldi, I think. Read a book until about 9:30 p.m., at which time I turned in for the night.”
“Did you see or talk to anyone Friday night?”
“No, I did not. Only the clerk at the deli.”
“Didn’t talk to anyone on the phone?”
“No. I rarely use my phone as it is.”
“What book are you reading?”
“A Farewell to Arms. Hemingway.”
“I know the book,” Matt said. “Did you go down to the beach at all Friday night?”
“No, I did not.”
“Why would Lydia Campbell think you might have?”
Frolick smiled. “Lydia worries about me. She knows I tend to wander off occasionally.”
“What do you mean ‘wander off’?”
“Sometimes when I’m out walking or beachcombing for treasures, I forget how long I’ve been gone, or I end up far from my starting point. It’s one of the joys of getting old, young man. You’ll see,” he smiled. No malice. Friendly.
“Do you like Mayor Bushnell?” Matt asked. “Did you vote for him?”
“Yes and yes.”
“Do you know where he lives?”
“If you keep going down Ocean Bend Road, you turn left on Cranberry Drive opposite the Whale Rock Wayside,” Frolick said, as if he was giving driving directions to Matt. “The Bushnell home is at the end of the cul-de-sac. Pretty, two-story house with a nicely-done garden. I believe they hire Jose Flores to take care of it.”
“Do you know which window is Emily’s room?”
Frolick stopped walking and turned to face Matt. “No, I do not. I’ve never been in the house, and I’ve had little interaction with the Bushnells. I have absolutely no motive whatsoever to kill that child, and I don’t have the slightest clue who might have done such a reprehensible thing.”
“But the deli workers can only confirm the early part of your story, and no one can fully verify your alibi, Mr. Frolick.”
“I live a quiet, peaceful life, by design. If people think I’m weird because I collect things from the sea, or because I wander off on occasion, I can’t help that. I also can’t help you if you don’t have any suspects. I wish I could, if for no other reason than it’s unsettling to have a killer on the loose, but I didn’t do
it, and I don’t know who did.”
The two walkers reached the crime-scene tape that cordoned off the tunnel. Matt watched as Ted walked up to the tape and peered into the tunnel. The tide was low, about the same height as it would have been on Friday evening. His face and body language didn’t reveal anything except curiosity.
“She must have been very afraid,” Frolick said softly. “A dark, foggy night in this menacing tunnel with someone intent on doing her harm.” He shook his head.
“The coroner thinks she died quickly, and probably didn’t realize what was happening. I’m holding onto that, and you should too. That is, if you weren’t the one who stabbed her.”
Ignoring Matt’s remark, Frolick asked “How old was she?”
“Four.”
He shook his head again, inhaled and exhaled deeply, and said “Shall we turn around now, Chief?”
“Yes, my feet are getting cold,” Matt said. “But what a beautiful day, so different from yesterday.”
“We have another saying in Oregon, Chief: ‘If you don’t like the weather, wait five minutes’. Especially at the beach.”
“It did change quickly, didn’t it?” remarked Matt. They resumed their walk back the way they came. Matt took a moment to enjoy the beauty, and then said, “Did you see anything on the beach Friday night?”
“It was too foggy to see anything. Foggy and cold. That’s why I built a fire and stayed inside where it was cozy. I may be crazy, but I’m not crazy enough to go wandering on a night like that. I can’t really see the beach from my house anyway. I can see the water, but I’m too far back to see the beach itself.”
“On your rambles last week, did you encounter any strangers? Anyone who stood out for any reason?”
“It’s been pretty quiet around here since New Year’s. The beach is full of strangers during that week between Christmas and New Year’s, but then it drops off, and this year was no exception. I don’t recall noticing anyone who looked capable of doing something like this.”
“Do you see the Bushnells walking on the beach much? Would you know Emily’s siblings if you see them?”
“I taught both Gary and Susan Bushnell, so, yes, I would know them for sure. In fact, I did see Gary last week and talked to him briefly.”
“Where did you see him and what did you talk about?”
“I ran into him on the beach south of Whale Rock Wayside. We talked for a couple of minutes, mostly about the University of Oregon and how he was doing so far. He seems to like it.”
“Was he alone?”
“Yes. Said his mother was feeding him too much food and he needed to walk off breakfast.”
“Was Gary a good student when you taught him?”
“Not really. Stupid as a post, actually. It surprised me that he even got into Oregon. But he was an accomplished athlete so that probably helped his application. Susan isn’t very bright either.”
“Do you know Jack?” Matt asked.
“I know who he is and would recognize him if I saw him. I’ve seen him and his father around town—in some of the shops. I was retired, however, before he got to my grade.”
“Did you see either Jack or Susan on the beach last week?”
“No, I don’t believe so. The whole family was down there on Christmas Eve. Had a bonfire going. That was probably the last time I saw Jack, Susan, or the mayor.”
“But you saw Marjorie and Emily last week, correct?”
“Did Ms. Perkins put that in her report?” Frolick wanted to know.
“Yes, everything you told Patty is there; she’s thorough. Why did you slap that boy in school six years ago?” Matt asked, abruptly changing direction.
“Because I hate children and I want them all dead. Look, Chief Horning—is that the proper salutation?—I’ve explained everything to Ms. Perkins, and it’s all in my statement. If she’s as thorough as you say she is, and I suspect you are correct in that assessment, you have everything I’m going to say on this matter. I’m not your man.”
“We will look into your background, Mr. Frolick. In the meantime, I have to ask you, are you absolutely sure it was Marjorie Bushnell kissing Craig Kenton? No doubt whatsoever in your mind?”
“No doubt at all. It was her, and it was Kenton, and it was more than friendly. Between us men, Kenton had a very proprietary hold on Marjorie, if you know what I mean. They’re an item alright.”
“You’re so sure that you will be comfortable with us confronting both of them?”
“Yes, I am. Wouldn’t mind being a fly on the wall when you talk to the two paramours.”
“This isn’t a game, Mr. Frolick.”
“Of course it’s not. But if her mother’s affair had any bearing on that child’s murder, I expect you to prove it.”
“I will,” Matt said, looking him in the eye. “With your sighting of Marjorie and Kenton earlier, this second encounter with Emily in the car is also an important nugget of information. Do you remember if Emily was awake when you saw them in the supermarket’s parking lot?”
“Oh, she was awake all right. She waved to me as I drove by them, big grin on her face. Sweet child. I waved back.” Frolick looked down at the sand, clearly upset and not wanting Matt to see it.
Ted Frolick is either completely innocent of Emily’s murder, or he’s the scariest psychopath I’ve ever come up against, and, currently, I’ve got zero evidence either way, thought Matt.
Chapter 21
Sunday, 3:00 p.m.
The Port Stirling PD officers, under the direction of Ed and Jay, had been busy checking the alibis of the three siblings, Jay reported to Matt.
“Susan’s alibi is watertight. She was at the slumber party with her friends from a little after 6:30 p.m. Friday until Saturday morning. There were multiple witnesses, and everyone’s story jives.” Jay said. “She was definitely at that slumber party all night after she dropped off Jack at the movies.”
“What if she snuck out after the other girls went to bed?”
suggested Matt.
“They were up until 2:00 a.m., according to the hostess,” Jay said. “I personally checked with Chloe’s mother.”
“That puts Susan’s opportunity out of the question then, according to the ME’s time of death,” said Matt. “Could Susan and Jack have taken Emily down to that tunnel when they left the house together, killed her together, and then gone about their separate ways?” he posed.
“The timing doesn’t add up,” said Jay, shaking his head. “According to both Marjorie’s and Fred’s statements, Emily was still up when Jack and Susan left. I think Susan is out of the picture. Her alibi and the timing make it virtually impossible.”
“Do me a favor, Jay, and call Chloe’s mother again and ask her if Susan was clean and tidy when she arrived. Any sand or blood, etc. on her? If she showed no signs of the beach and she arrived when everyone said she did, I agree that Susan is off our list of suspects. The only thing holding me back from completely dismissing her is I detected some uneasiness in Susan when we got her statement,” Matt said. “Did either of you feel it?”
“Yes, I thought she was a little squirmy,” agreed Fern. “I felt she was telling us the truth, but I also thought she was hiding something. Maybe she knows about her mother and Kenton and was afraid we would find out and rock the boat?”
“Possible,” mused Matt.
“Squirmy is a good word, Fern,” said Ed. “But I often have that effect on teenagers. I could be a little gentler during interrogations, but I want them to understand and impress upon them that murder is no time to fool around with the truth. I believe that Susan was nervous because of the gravity of the situation and because of my approach.”
“Plus,” Matt added, “Susan doesn’t strike me as the type of girl who has enough gumption to do something like this. She seems kind of lazy, if you know what I mean.”
“Like it would be too much trouble to kill your little sister,”
agreed Ed.
“Exactly,” said Matt. “Sort of like a whiny ‘it’s too hard’. Even if her alibi weren’t firm, I’d have trouble believing Susan was our killer. Is she acting the way a sibling should react to her sister’s death?”
Fern nodded. “Yes. I don’t know if she and Emily were close, but she’s teary-eyed and is upset and sad. She’s also acting like a typical teenage girl. She’s hysterical about Emily’s death, but also concerned about its impact on her own life. It’s teenage processing at its normal progression, in my view.”
Matt walked to the big board and drew a black line through Susan’s name. He turned to Jay. “What about Jack’s alibi? What did we find out about his Friday night?”
“I talked to Joey Hawthorne’s mother and she confirmed that he and Jack were meeting at the movie theater. She said she dropped Joey off in front of the theater a little after 6:30 p.m., and Jack was out front waiting for him.”
“OK, so Jack went to the movies . . . we already knew that,” Matt said. “But did he stay there until he says he did? That’s the question. Did you talk to Joey?” There was a hint of irritation in the Chief’s voice.
“Not yet. He and his dad went over to Buck Bay this morning and aren’t home yet. I asked her to have Joey call me as soon as they get home. I’m sorry, I know it’s important, but Mrs. Hawthorne said neither Joey nor his dad carry a cell phone. Not everyone here does.”
“Not your fault. But keep on Joey; we need to know he was with Jack. I’m not convinced that Jack was at the cinema the entire evening. He was vague on how the movie ended, and the hair on the back of my neck told me that he might be dodging my questions. Do any of you know what the ‘Rogue One’ part of the title means?”
“It’s the Imperial ship that the Rebels steal, of course,” said Jay dryly.
“Have you seen the movie?”
“Yeah, I drove to Eugene to see it the first day because it takes forever for movies to get down here.”
