by Anne Hagan
Not knowing where to go with that, I attempted to semi-tactfully change the subject. “We’re all sure missing the store back in town. Have you had any thoughts of re-opening it?”
“Listen, Faye, I mean no disrespect but I’m glad that I was grown and out on my own when my mother met Terry and he took her to that...that...little town to live. It’s quaint and all but, it’s just not for me.”
Chloe interjected, “Faye, I could have sworn you told me that Terry wasn’t from Morelville. Am I mistaken?”
“He wasn’t; he was from Tennessee. Sheila grew up in Zanesville and so did her children,” I said as I tipped my head toward Jennifer. Morelville is just where she and Terry wound up buying property and the store business.”
I turned back to Jennifer, “So what do you suppose you’ll do with the store?”
“It’s mom’s decision of course, not mine, but I believe she’s planning to sell the business; just that though. She doesn’t own the building. She’d give up the lease and the name that goes with it.”
“Sell it? Really?” I raised my eyebrows at Chloe who shot me a look that said she knew exactly what I’d been driving at all along.
“She almost has to. There’s all of the legal bills, you see. Even if she ‘pleads out’, as you put it, she’s going to owe the lawyers several grand over and above what she’s already depleted from her savings to pay them. My brothers and I...we’re doing all we can...”
Her tone suggested that they weren’t helping much at all because, from what I knew of them from Sheila, they all lived above their means. A house in the exclusive Bath enclave on a junior vice president’s salary was probably making things more than a little tight for the Jennifer and Charles duo, almost certainly.
Chloe surprised me when she asked, “If you don’t mind my asking, what sort of price would she be seeking for the business?”
“For the business, all of the equipment and the remaining stock, she’s planning to ask for $30,000.”
I eyeballed Chloe closely. For her part, she didn’t bat an eye.
“That seems reasonable,” she replied.
I was a little surprised but I did my best not to react.
“Are you interested in it?” Jennifer asked in a rush. “Wait, I thought you were a decorator; you are aren’t you? The terms of the lease state the building must be used as a store and maintain its name, ‘The Morelville General Store’.”
“I am a decorator,” Chloe told her with what sounded like more than a little conviction to me but, a good friend recently reminded me about my store keeping background, is all.”
“Is that right? Well then, let me give you my card. If you want to take a look at it, by all means, ring me. I’d be willing to make a trip down there to show you through everything, on my mother’s behalf, of course.” She handed Chloe a card that contained only her name and telephone number.
Before I could say anything else, Jennifer ended our impromptu meeting abruptly, “Faye, it’s been nice seeing you again. Chloe, it has been nice meeting you. I hope to hear from you soon. I must be off, however.” With that, she left the store.
“What did she come in here for in the first place?” Chloe quizzed me.
“Darned if I know,” I said. “Whatever it was, she left without it.”
Chapter 10 – Veterans
Sunday, November 2nd, 2014
You hear the most interesting things in church! Chloe went to services with me on Sunday before heading home to McKeesport. During requests for prayers, Jon Thomas, stood up from his seat in a pew at the back of the sanctuary and asked the congregation to keep Lawrence Purcell in their prayers. From our seats closer to the front, we could hear the low murmur humming as some people passed along to others that Lawrence Purcell and Old Man Purcell were one and the same.
Jon didn’t stop with asking for prayers for Purcell, however. Chloe and I looked at each other wide eyed as he spoke of things involving Purcell’s murder we knew nothing about. Spend a day out of town and you miss all the current goings on...
“Lawrence Purcell didn’t die,” Jon thundered. “He was murdered; murdered in a ritualistic and most gruesome way by devil worshipping cultists bent on taking one of the vulnerable among us as a sacrifice!”
I looked at Pastor Evans. He seemed to be struck speechless as Jon railed on.
“Lawrence Purcell was killed with a stake to the heart by these heathens. They must be found! They must be brought to justice!” He looked around the sanctuary, catching several pairs of frightened eyes, “For your own protection: lock your doors, lock your windows and pray to God almighty that justice is served and Lawrence is redeemed.” He took his seat while the rest of us sat in stunned silence.
Glancing at Chloe, I could see the questions in her eyes but it wasn’t the time or the place to have any sort of a conversation.
Once the Pastor gained some sort of control, the service went on with a more muted tone than is typical.
Knowing Jon’s typical habit was to go downstairs to the fellowship hall after the service and sip a cup of coffee for a few minutes before leaving without really speaking with anyone, I planned to meet up with him before he could make his escape. He’s not going to get away with that this time!
“Come on,” I pulled Chloe up as the recessional ended and people started to file down the center aisle toward the back to shake hands with Pastor Evans. We headed instead toward the front and a vestibule that would take us to a set of stairs that came out at the back end of the fellowship hall instead of the front end.
“Who was that guy, earlier?” she asked me as we worked our way down.
Since I knew exactly who she was talking about, I replied simply, “Jon Thomas. He’s a retired pipefitter and he was Purcell’s neighbor from two doors down.”
“What are we doing now?”
“You’ll see. No time to explain...” We got to the coffee urn just as the first people were filtering down from the back of the church. Thomas arrived thirty seconds later as I was filling a cup of coffee.
“No doubt surprised to see me there when he was usually gone or just leaving as I reached the fellowship hall, he hesitated for a minute.
“Would you like a cup,” I offered as I held up an empty foam one.
“I can get it, thanks.”
“It’s no problem,” I told him as I drew him a cup and then carefully handed it to him.
Not wanting to look out of the loop and knowing I could confirm most of the pertinent details with Mel, I decided on a different approach with Jon Thomas.
“Were you friends with Lawrence, Jon?”
“What’s that you say?”
“You and Purcell; were you friends?”
“We were acquainted...got along okay...it helped from time to time that he lived two doors down instead of right next door.”
“You knew him better than most, even at that, then.” I stretched the truth just a little, “There’s has been no mention of funeral arrangements and no one seems to be able to get a hold of Purcell’s next of kin. Would you know anything about any of that?”
“I only got to know him at all because he was a Vietnam vet. He was in the VFW chapter in Zanesville, like me.”
“Thank you so much for your service.”
Thomas dipped his head to nod. Before he could launch into any sort of war story, I jumped right back in with, “So you don’t have any idea about a funeral then?”
“I was getting to that,” he said, more than a little testily. “I’m pretty sure he left a copy of his will with the VFW. Lots of us do that. I heard rumor...and it’s only that, you understand, saying all his assets went to them after his death expenses and that he was to be cremated and his ashes kept in the memorial garden at the VFW hall.”
“He didn’t want a memorial service or a wake?”
“Not around here, he didn’t.”
After church, Chloe and I had a little lunch with the family back at the farmhouse and then she left for McKeesport
. As soon as I was sure everyone else was ensconced in front of the television for football, I picked up the phone.
I tried to get in touch with the Zanesville VFW. I knew the hall would be open and football tuned in on all of their TVs for their members to watch but no one would answer my call. For a minute I was stymied.
Scanning through my address book, I stopped well into it on the name Keith Quigley. Keith was a former classmate of my oldest brother and an unrequited crush of mine from oh so long ago but, beyond that, I also knew he was a past president of the local VFW chapter. He’d left Morelville long ago but he set down roots in Zanesville years before and he was still living there on the near east side.
I decided to pay Keith a visit. What could getting a little info hurt?
I didn’t bother Jesse and the crew with my plan. He was tucked into his recliner watching football with Dana. She had him all pumped up about the Steelers which, much to my consternation, now took him out of the desirable fall activities loop with me on Saturday’s when the Buckeyes played and on Sundays when the Steelers played. He’d even conned our grandson Cole and our son-in-law Lance into hanging out after lunch and watching with them by promising not to turn the day into a family fun day. They were all bent on having boys time, plus Dana. No one would even realize I was gone.
###
“Larry Purcell,” Keith told me, “was a Vietnam vet who went in country as a Spec 5 first cook in 1961. He wasn’t a combatant. The only time he picked up a rifle was when he had guard duty. He got in a few years after high school when he couldn’t seem to keep a job because he was too busy rabble rousing and fighting and he’d been in a few years by the time he went to ‘Nam.”
Some of that went right over my head, but I got the gist of it.
“He got out of the Army,” Keith continued, “after his tour in ‘Nam and got a job with the school district where he stayed for years. He claimed PTSD from the war as the reason why he was so hard on his future wife and kids. If I recall, he got married around 1965...I went to the wedding...and he was divorced about ten years later.”
“You’re saying PTSD was the reason he was so mean?”
“That’s what he claimed but most of the older locals in your neck of the woods and my old stomping grounds knew different. Larry hadn’t changed at all since his school days or the time before he went into the Army. If anything, he was meaner. Frankly, a lot of guys in the chapter didn’t like him.”
Chapter 11 – Dead Ends & New Beginnings
Late Monday Morning, November 3rd, 2014
Muskingum County Sheriff’s Office
To try and satisfy my own curiosity, and to make sure my name was clear and I wasn’t being considered as a suspect in Purcell’s murder, I decided to pay my daughter a visit at work.
Under the guise of bringing her some lunch, I trooped into the station with repurposed leftovers from Sunday’s roasted chicken dinner. Mel hadn’t been able to join us because of her workload. I felt for her, but her being busy served my purpose well.
Her assistant Holly, dressed in street clothes rather than her usual sergeant’s uniform, led me right into Mel’s office and then moved to leave.
“Please stay Holly,” I coaxed her. “There’s plenty of food.”
She smiled and her tone sounding grateful for the break, told me, “Let me just grab another chair then.”
Mel looked me up and down, “So what’s up mom?” Her question was probing more than a greeting.
“I’m just bringing my hard working daughter a little lunch. You worked all weekend and, I suspect you did too?” I spun on one heel and asked Holly as she returned with a third chair.
She nodded as Mel spoke for her and said, “I gave her today off but, as you can see, she just couldn’t stay away.”
“We have too much going on Mel for me to let you wade through it alone,” Holly said more for my benefit than, I felt, for Mel’s.
Holly unpacked the box I’d carried in and I dished up the food as she hauled it out and opened it the containers for me.
Once we were all seated and eating, I casually mentioned running into Jon Thomas at church.
“Jon told me that Old Man Purcell has his last will and testament on file with the Zanesville VFW. Supposedly, they get everything and Purcell is to be cremated and interred in their memorial garden. I thought you might want to know that, if you didn’t already, that is.”
Mel finished chewing before she spoke, “Thanks for that. I’ll look into it.” I caught her glance at Holly just before she corrected herself and asked, “Holly, would you check that please.”
“Yes, of course,” she replied to Mel and then, turning to me, she said, “Faye, this chicken dish is wonderful!”
“It’s chicken divan dear. It’s a recipe I love but that Jesse won’t eat. He always wants just plain roasted chicken or barbecued chicken. For you girls, I fixed it up right.”
Mel smiled, “It really is good but don’t think I’m not onto you Mom. I didn’t get to be Sheriff by being an idiot. What are you after?”
“Why, whatever do you mean?” I played coy and got Holly laughing out loud.
“Mom, seriously? You didn’t come here just to feed us. We all know it.” She twirled a finger around to indicate the three of us.
“Oh no, I’m staying out of this one,” Holly responded.
I waited a beat, sighed loudly and said, “You got me. I’ll come clean.” I took a real cleansing breath then and plunged ahead, “I just really want to know where you stand with the investigation into Old Man Purcell’s death. Your detective Harding gave me the impression the other day that I’m possibly a suspect and I...well...I...I want to know, am I?”
Mel put down her fork and steepled her hands above her plate. “You know, of course, that I can’t talk to you about an ongoing investigation?”
I nodded.
“Here’s what I will say: I’m aware that you and Purcell had words late Thursday evening. I’m also aware of the Crane family history with Purcell. Given those things, I asked Shane Harding to interview you and we’ve put your statement and those of the witnesses to your argument aside for now until such time as it might become necessary to revisit them all, if it becomes necessary.”
“So, does all of that mean that you haven’t found anything that points my direction so far since I haven’t heard anything?”
I glanced at Holly who was nodding almost imperceptibly. Her actions gave me a slight feeling of relief but I really wanted to hear it from Mel too.
Sighing softly Mel divulged, “You didn’t hear this here, got it?”
I nodded again.
Mel spoke softly, “There are no actual suspects so far in the murder of Purcell, Mom. We’re working overtime because we’re still hitting dead ends. Chloe and Dana both said in their statements that they walked right in on Friday evening; the building was open. No one else appeared to be there when they got there.”
“Normally a board member would open up,” I supplied. “Purcell had master keys to the building but he always made himself scarce until almost closing time. He wasn’t fond of cleaning up any of the heavy mess that he might be enlisted to help with if he got there earlier. I ‘m positive he locked the door behind me when I left late Thursday night. I don’t have building keys.”
“Then he either unlocked the door for something or someone later or someone else with keys got into the building and...” Anyway, there were no signs of forced entry anywhere.”
“You don’t have any clues at all to work with?” I was scared now, not so much for myself but because I knew a killer was on the loose in our sleepy little village.
Holly cleared her throat. Mel just shook her head. “By now,” she said, “you probably heard how he was killed. It’s been let out by someone.”
“I heard a stake to the heart.”
“Exactly. We have the stake. It’s not anything we can get any kind of prints off of. Too many people passed through the haunted house Thursday nigh
t to make getting any prints anywhere viable. The only thing we have to go on is a missing prop.”
“Prop?”
“The mannequin the vampire – Rich Johnson – usually used is missing. He claims it was there when everything was shut down for the night. Now it’s missing...it hasn’t turned up. I’d venture to say that whoever has it is our killer.”
###
8:30 PM, Monday Evening, November 3rd, 2014
Crane Family Farm
“Hello?”
“Faye? It’s Chloe.”
“Hey sweetie, what’s up with you? How are things back in the big city?”
“That’s why I’m calling, Faye. There’s some interesting stuff going on here and I just had to bounce some stuff off someone.”
I took a seat in my rocker in the sitting room. “You can tell me all about it. What’s going on?”
“It’s just the most unexpected thing; Marco came home from the mill today Faye with a packet of papers from HR.”
She paused and I feared the worst but my fears were mostly groundless.
“He was offered an early retirement package.” All in a rush, she continued, “He only has two years left anyway before can retire normally. If he goes right now, He’ll get a severance equal to 6 months of pay plus he can cash in all his vacation and sick leave, get his annual bonus which they normally pay at Christmas and he’ll be fully vested in his 401K. It’s a pretty sweet deal except that he’s not quite old enough to draw Social Security.”
I wasn’t sure what to say but she paused again, this time as if she were waiting for a response. I quickly asked a question, “Does Marco think it’s a sweet deal or is that all you?”
“He’s seriously thinking about taking the offer Faye but he wants to have some fall back income at least until Social Security kicks in. That’s kind of why I called you.”
“Are you thinking about the store?”
“Yes.”
I knew it! Trying to keep a level tone, I asked her, “Have you even mentioned it to Marco?”
