‘You want one?’ he asked.
Blair shook her head.
Tom sat down across from her in his easy chair and stared at her. ‘I realize that you hired me when I took your money, but that doesn’t mean you can come calling whenever the hell you please,’ he grumbled.
‘I hope you haven’t cashed that check,’ said Blair, ‘because I want my money back.’
Tom looked at her with narrowed eyes. ‘What’s the problem?’ he asked. ‘Results too slow? Did you think I’d have all the answers in twelve hours?’
‘I’ve just come from the hospital,’ she said evenly. ‘Yusef Muhammed tried to kill himself last night.’
Tom did not flinch or betray any emotion. ‘I take it he didn’t succeed?’
‘No thanks to you,’ said Blair.
Tom frowned at her. ‘Now just a minute, how do I get blamed for this?’
Blair glared at him. ‘You called him yesterday. You reminded him that you had been one of the officers who arrested him and you told him that I had hired you to investigate the case. I believe your exact words were that, “as far as you were concerned, he was never getting out of jail.”’
Tom lifted his mug to his lips with a shaking hand. ‘That’s true. He probably isn’t,’ he said.
‘Bastard,’ said Blair, under her breath. ‘Just get me my check.’
Tom ignored the insult. ‘He hung up before I could explain why I said that. Can I explain it to you? Since you’re sitting right here?’
Blair trained a withering gaze on him and did not reply.
‘Fine. I’ll tell you anyway. Do you know how many prisoners are currently incarcerated in the U.S.?’ He did not wait for her to answer. ‘About one and half million. Do you know how many were exonerated last year? One hundred and fifty-seven. One-five-seven. And how many of those people currently incarcerated maintain their innocence? I’ll tell you. All one and half million. Every goddam one.’
Blair shook her head. ‘I’m really not interested in a diatribe about people in prison and bleeding heart liberals. Just give me that check.’
Tom sighed, set his cup down carefully and stood up. He went into the desk in the far corner of the living room, opened the drawer and pulled out a piece of paper. He walked back to where Blair was sitting and handed it to her. Blair glanced at it, folded it and put it in her pocket. Then she stood up.
‘This terminates our arrangement,’ she said.
‘Whether you believe it or not,’ Tom said, ‘I only said that because I didn’t want to give that guy any false hope. Those statistics are reality.’
‘Well, you accomplished that,’ said Blair sarcastically. ‘It should make you feel good to know that he really took your words to heart.’
Tom resumed his seat. When he spoke his tone had a faintly defensive note.
‘Just because it seems like mission impossible doesn’t mean that I wasn’t going to try and do the job,’ he said.
‘Whatever,’ said Blair, heading for the door. ‘I’ll do it myself. Investigating can’t be that difficult, judging from the fact that you make a living at it.’
To her surprise, Tom smiled.
‘Touché,’ he said.
Blair shook her head and reached for the doorknob.
‘Look I made a few notes on the case last night,’ he said. ‘If you insist on leaving, you might as well take them,’ he said.
Blair turned and looked at him. ‘Why?’ she asked.
‘I told you. I was planning on doing the job.’
‘Why give them to me?’
Tom shrugged. ‘I won’t need them. It might help you out.’
Blair stared at him, tempted, but not wanting to admit it.
Tom beckoned to her with one hand.
‘Come back. Sit for a minute. They’re on the desk.’
Blair wanted to walk out and slam the door, but she couldn’t really see the point of a dramatic gesture. She had already taken back her check. Meanwhile, Yusef Muhammed’s life was on the line and she didn’t really know where to begin. And time was of the essence. If Tom Olson had notes, she could at least take a look at them. She came back to the stiff-backed chair and sat down. Tom went over to the desk and shuffled through some papers there. He assembled a sheaf and brought them to Blair. Blair took them, and looked at him, surprised.
‘This is all from last night?’
‘I’m a believer in being prepared,’ he said.
Blair began to look through the pages. There were lists of questions to be answered and people he planned to interview. There was an entire page of physical evidence which he wanted to review. There were notes about Molly, about Yusef Muhammed, about Celeste. There were several street maps of Molly’s neighborhood. Blair glanced up at Tom, who had resumed his seat and was watching her over the rim of his coffee mug.
‘You did a lot of work here,’ she said begrudgingly.
‘Believe it or not, I was looking forward to this investigation. What you said about your sister interested me. I mean, legally, it’s not really helpful. People have a much exaggerated idea of the worth of a deathbed confession …’
‘I found that out,’ said Blair ruefully.
‘But you seem completely convinced that she was telling the truth as she knew it. And, at that point, why should she bother to lie?’ he said.
‘That’s exactly what I think,’ said Blair.
‘When I began to go over this stuff, in light of Celeste’s admission, I saw a lot of potential holes in the investigation. Those notes will give you a place to start,’ he said.
Blair sighed and began to look through the pages again. Then she looked up at Tom Olson.
‘It seems like you were actually getting ready to pursue this case.’
‘That was my plan.’
‘So why did you precipitate Muhammed’s suicide attempt with your callousness.’
‘I explained that,’ he said stubbornly.
‘All the same, you needlessly harassed a man, falsely imprisoned, whom you were supposed to be helping.’
Tom did not reply. He gazed at her with a cool, distant expression on his face. Blair understood that he was not going to apologize.
‘I do need help with this,’ she admitted. ‘I have to see it through, but it’s a bit overwhelming.’
‘Do you want me to take another stab at it?’
Blair sighed and stared at the papers in her hands. ‘I suppose I do.’
‘In that case, I am willing to give it a try,’ Tom said.
Blair didn’t know whether to feel relieved or wary. ‘Look, I’ve decided that I can’t walk away while this is all up in the air. But I’m not going to sit around this town waiting for you to get results. I want to be involved in every step of this. Either give me jobs to do or let me accompany you.’
Tom shrugged. ‘You can tag along, until you get in my way,’ he said. ‘I won’t have that.’
‘Understood. And I suppose you’ll want this check back,’ she said, pulling it from her pocket and holding it between her fingers.
‘You’re damn right,’ he said.
Blair walked over to him and handed him the check. He put it in his shirt pocket and patted it proprietarily.
‘When do we start?’ she said.
‘Let’s talk about what we do know,’ he said. ‘Starting with the crime.’
The sky turned from an early morning bluish gray to a pale gray midday, as they sat in Tom’s living room and went over the day of Molly’s death in detail. Tom asked Blair to tell him everything she knew about that long ago day. Finally, he sat back in his chair, ruminating.
‘What are you thinking?’ she said.
‘You say that the kid playing hide and seek next door …’
‘Jenna,’ said Blair.
‘This Jenna told you that she had heard someone banging on the door of the Sinclair’s house, asking for help,’ he said, frowning.
‘That’s right,’ said Blair. ‘But she didn’t hear anyone answer the doo
r.’
‘So, that must have occurred before Molly got home. The house was empty. Her parents were away, and, as far as we know, Molly never went into the house.’
‘That’s right,’ said Blair.
Tom pulled out the street maps and studied them, tapping his steepled fingers against his lips. ‘This house next door was the Knoedler’s.’
‘Yes, that’s their name,’ Blair agreed.
‘I know them,’ said Tom. ‘I answered a couple of calls there when I was a patrolman.’
‘Calls about what?’
‘Domestic disputes,’ he said. ‘Randy Knoedler was a mean drunk.’
‘Mean, as in violent?’ said Blair.
Tom nodded. ‘We picked him up for battery a couple of times.’
‘You know, come to think of it, I remember that Janet was worried about Molly staying alone in the house, because they had a neighbor with a bad temper.’
‘That would be Randy,’ said Tom. ‘We would arrest him and then the wife would refuse to press charges.’
Blair’s heart skipped an anxious beat. ‘Are you thinking he was the one who might have come after Molly?’
Tom seemed lost in thought. ‘This is what we need to find out. Who was this unidentified visitor? Could it, in fact, have been a neighbor? Someone who ran over there to escape an angry … family member? Or did the visitor come in a car?’ He looked up at Blair. ‘Did the eyewitness, or ear witness in this case, hear a car?’
‘She didn’t say,’ said Blair. ‘We could ask her.’
Tom frowned at the map and did not reply. Blair pulled her chair around and looked at what he was studying.
‘This is a recent map,’ she said. She pointed to the house perched in the midst of a sloping, manicured lawn which she had visited. ‘This house wasn’t there fifteen years ago.’
Tom looked at her, eyebrows raised. ‘No, you’re right. It wasn’t,’ he said. ‘We need a map of that street as it was back then.’
‘Where do we get that?’ Blair asked.
‘City Hall,’ he said, ‘and I think we definitely need to revisit the Knoedlers. This … person that the kid heard knocking could be important. Let’s take a ride.’
‘I’ll drive,’ said Blair.
He hesitated and she thought he was going to protest, but then he said, ‘Sure. Just remember, if you do drive, you may be in for a long day.’
‘Not a problem,’ said Blair, gazing back at him impassively.
‘All right then,’ he said. ‘Let’s go.’
TWENTY
Blair drove, while Tom spoke on his cell phone to someone from the police department. His end of the conversation was monosyllabic, almost as if he did not want Blair to know what he was talking about. He ended the call just as they arrived on Main Street and he started to point out to her where to turn to reach City Hall.
‘I know where it is,’ said Blair irritably. ‘I used to live here.’
‘There have been some changes,’ he said.
‘Not that many,’ said Blair. She pulled into a parking spot directly across the street from City Hall and the two of them got out of the car. They crossed the street and mounted the steps. Once inside, Blair’s familiarity with the place ended, but Tom seemed to know exactly which office to head to. He went into Zoning and Permits, and Blair followed behind him.
‘Hey Tom,’ said the woman behind the counter, with a flirtatious smile.
‘Melanie, how are you?’ he said.
Melanie was a woman in her late thirties, wearing an elaborate updo, lots of eye makeup and a sweater which was too tight and clung to the rolls in her midriff.
‘I’m peachy,’ Melanie said. ‘What brings you here today?’
‘Well, my client and I,’ Tom said pointedly, indicating Blair, ‘need to take a look at one of your topographical maps, from say … fifteen years ago.’
‘Of what part of town?’
‘Fulling Mill Road,’ he said.
The woman nodded and went over to a shelf of large books which were arranged side by side in an old bookcase. She struggled to pull one loose and carried it to the counter where Tom and Blair were waiting. Tom thanked her and flopped the old book open on the counter. A musty smell rose from the pages. It seemed as if those pages had rarely been turned.
Blair and Tom leaned, shoulder to shoulder, over the book of maps and drawings of the area. It took Blair only a moment to get the hang of it. Then she was quickly able to turn the topographical drawings and aerial maps into a three-dimensional image of the place in her mind’s eye.
‘There,’ she said, pointing to a pencil-drawn box with footage numbers along the perimeter. ‘That’s the Sinclair’s house.’
Tom nodded and looked.
‘This is the Knoedler’s,’ said Blair, pointing to another box further down the street which had been divided into large lots.
‘And on the other side,’ said Tom, indicating the page with his open hand. ‘Nothing. Woods and trees.’
‘Really?’ said Blair, frowning at the page.
‘I told you there have been changes. A lot of new construction for one thing,’ said Tom.
Blair looked at the date on the book’s spine. The aerial maps were clearly correct for that year. ‘I didn’t remember it like that. I mean, I remember there was a lot of woodland, but it looks like those lots were completely undeveloped.’
‘Until we get to this spot,’ Tom said, pointing to a large parcel of land on the winding road. ‘That’s the old Warriner place. It’s got two buildings on it. Beyond it there’s another equally large, isolated parcel where this road winds its way up the mountain.’
‘I see that,’ said Blair.
‘But that would be a treacherous walk to Molly’s house from here. That’s got to be at least a mile.’
Tom closed the book up and called out to the clerk. ‘Thanks, Melanie.’
‘Did you find what you were looking for?’ Melanie asked pleasantly.
‘Maybe,’ he said.
Blair shivered as they stepped outside and got back into her Nissan. She looked over at Tom.
‘So, where to first?’
‘We’ll start at the Knoedler house,’ he said.
‘Ok,’ said Blair.
‘But first, would you mind stopping at the Wawa up there,’ he said, pointing to the gas station and convenience center, which was doing the best business in town, judging from the coming and going in the parking lot.
‘No problem,’ said Blair. She pulled in and parked.
‘I’m going to get myself a sandwich,’ he said. ‘Can I get you anything?’
Blair shook her head. ‘I’m not hungry.’
Tom got out of the passenger side and loped up to the door. He opened it, allowing a young mom and her toddler in a stroller to exit before he disappeared inside.
Alone in the car, Blair felt grateful that the former cop was back on board. If he didn’t find this case absorbing, he was doing a good job of feigning interest. Her stomach growled and she wished, suddenly, that she had asked him to buy her a sandwich after all. She knew she could take a minute, go out and get one – after all, they were operating on her dime – but it would slow them down and she found herself not wanting to lose the time.
The door of the convenience store opened. Tom came out carrying a large cup with a straw in one hand and a paper wrapped sandwich in the other.
Blair leaned over and opened the car door. Tom slid inside. He put the drink down in the cup holder between the seats. Blair could see now that there were two straws inserted in the lid. He unwrapped the sandwich, divided it in two and handed a half, complete with paper, over to Blair.
‘You looked hungry to me,’ he said.
Blair looked at him in surprise.
‘It’s ham and cheese. You’re not a vegan or something, are you?’
Blair smiled and shook her head. ‘No.’
‘Ham and cheese seemed like the safest bet,’ he said.
Blair accepted the
sandwich and took a bite. ‘I was hungry,’ she admitted. ‘I’ve been up since the crack of dawn.’
‘I know. You were knocking at my door.’ Tom took a sip from the drink and held up a second straw. ‘This one’s for you if you want it,’ he said. ‘It’s iced tea.’
‘Thanks,’ she said reaching back behind the seat and lifting up a clear plastic bottle. ‘I’ve got water.’
For a few moments they ate in silence.
‘So you grew up around here,’ he said.
Blair nodded, keeping her eyes on the windshield. ‘After my mother died, my sister and I moved in with Uncle Ellis. He was my mother’s half-brother. Much older than her.’
‘Ellis Dietz,’ Tom said.
‘That’s him,’ said Blair.
‘Does he still have all that Nazi stuff?’
Blair’s face reddened. ‘You knew about that?’
‘Everybody knew about it. When I was a kid, we all wanted to see it. It was like something out of a World War II movie.’
‘Yeah, well, living with it was horrible.’
‘I’m sure of that,’ said Tom. ‘Your uncle was considered a local crank.’
Blair sighed. ‘He certainly was.’
‘Is he still?’
Blair frowned. ‘He seems to have a lady friend these days who is having a positive effect on him. A little too late for me and my sister, but it’s a good thing overall. Her name is Darlene. She’s a hospice worker. She just moved here to live with her brother. Joe Reese? He drives a bus.’
‘Oh yeah, I know who he is,’ said Tom.
‘Do you know everyone?’ she asked.
Tom shrugged. ‘I know a few people.’
‘So you’ve always lived here?’ Blair asked.
‘You don’t have to say it like that,’ he chided her. ‘Some people like it here.’
Blair shrugged. ‘I guess. For me it will always remind me of my mother’s death, living with Uncle Ellis and the shame of having that Confederate flag on the porch. And now I can add the memory of my sister dying here.’ Blair shook her head. ‘Not a lot of warm, fuzzy memories. It seems like you have fonder feelings for this place than I do.’
The Girl in the Woods Page 16
