Secret Keepers and Skinny Shadows: Lee and Miranda

by Mary A Russell

  Miranda pulled the car back onto the road and pointed it toward home.

  Back at the mansion, Miranda started working on the computer digging out information on the people in Lillie’s letters. Lee sat in the chair next to her holding an icepack on his head.

  “One thing I’m sure of, Miranda—I’m not dropping this investigation. I’ve put too much time and effort into it to stop now because some thug took a whacked at me. It’ll take more than that to stop this research project.”

  “Okay, then, if you’re sure. I wouldn’t stand in your way.”

  “Kid, it’s odd that Lilly waited three years before writing the next letter to Elizabeth?”

  “I wondered about that myself. Maybe she did write others, but Elizabeth and Jane only kept these letters.”

  “Yes, but she also said she spent a year crying over Bert’s death. We don’t know how long she was in the hospital,” he said.

  The buzzer rang. When Miranda opened the front door a red-eyed, nervous, well dressed older gentleman stood in the threshold holding his hat in his hand.

  “Hello, may I help you?”

  Lee stepped to the door beside Miranda. The man didn’t acknowledge him. He shifted from foot to foot, twisting his scarf in his free hand.

  “Nice Bentley, beautiful emerald green,” Lee said.

  “Yes, well, I’m not here to discuss my car or talk with you. I’m here to see Miranda.” He said looking Lee in the eyes this time and nodding.

  “Alright then,” Lee said.

  “I won’t give my name. I’m too well known in Bridgetown.”

  “Really, I don’t know you,” Miranda said.

  “That’s probably because we run in different circles. But I do know who you are.”

  “Okay then what is it you want?”

  “I have some information to tell you and I hope it will help you solve this long forgotten murder that took place here many years ago.”

  “Would you like to come in? It’s cold out there.”

  “No, thank you. I won’t be here long.”

  “Okay, what is it you have to say? Miranda said.

  “I’m sure you don’t know about a group of people in this town who have tried to hide the facts of this murder and the person who did it. I’m a retired Bridgetown city policeman. I worked on the railroad until 1950 when I joined the police department. I wasn’t assigned to help work Bert’s murder case, but I think I know who killed him.”

  Miranda interrupted him. “Oh. What did the detectives assigned to the case say when you told them you knew who did it?”

  “They said they would look into it, but I don’t think they ever did. Now, may I continue with my story?”

  “Oh, sorry. Go ahead,”

  “The night of the murder I was on patrol with another officer. We were called to a traffic accident at 17th Street and Margaret Avenue. Before we arrived, the man who rear-ended the car parked at the light had fled on foot, leaving his vehicle behind at the scene. When we ran the license number, we traced it to a family by the name of Backers who lived on Chestnut Avenue two doors down from where Bert’s body was found.”

  “Sorry to interrupt you again, but did you say the police said they checked into this guy?” Miranda said.

  “Yes. The next day I asked a detective about it and he told me it wasn’t my concern. He said I was to forget about it. Now, back to the story,” he put his hat on.

  “We impounded the car and went to the Backers’ house. When we arrived at the door a woman answered our knock, we inquired if she owned this certain Ford she said yes, it was parked behind Jim’s Hot Dog Diner. We told her no, it was impounded because it was just involved in a hit and run accident on 17th Street.”

  “So, you’re saying she didn’t know he had taken her car and used it? Sorry for the interruption again,” Miranda said.

  “That’s right, she didn’t believe us. She told her son, Billy, to go upstairs and get the keys to her car. When the boy came back he said the keys were missing. She also told us she had a boarder who lived in a room upstairs who wasn’t at home at the time.”

  “Isn’t it strange that she parked the car behind the diner?”

  “Look, lady, if you keep interrupting me, I’m never going to get through this story.”

  Lee looked at Miranda with a smirked.

  “Sorry, I’ll try not to do that again. No promises though.”

  “Early the next morning after the murder, the detectives working the case got a tip to check out this boarder. When they knocked on his door, a large, burly fellow who had a couple of red strawberry marks on his forehead opened the door. They were the kind of marks you’d get from bashing your head into the windshield of a car. This man also matched the description of one of the men last seen with Bert at the hot dog diner earlier that night. I theorize that this fellow, his name is Will Pink, killed Bert, then stole the Backers’ car, and was involved in the accident while fleeing from the scene of the murder. He was also linked to the murder of Mr. Merritt.”

  “Go on, sir. Do you have more to say?” Miranda asked.

  “No, I’m done. Please don’t try to contact me. I’m not interested in talking to you again. I’ve told you everything I know. That should be enough. But I have two words of advice for you: Be careful.” With that he turned and walked to his car and drove off.

  “Isn’t that interesting,” Lee said. “Mr. Merritt popped up again. He certainly got around. He’s like an apparition—everyone seems to know him, but no one knows anything about him. He flows in and out of people’s lives,” Lee said, as he walked to the sofa and took a seat.

  “Are you sure you’re okay? You look pale.”

  “I’m okay, Miranda, but thanks for your concern.”

  “See, I do have a heart,” she said.

  “He didn’t give a description of this man with the head injury other than he was large and burly fitting the description of one of the men who left the hot dog diner with Bert.”

  “I’m typing in Will Pink right now,” Miranda said.

  “Hope we get lucky.”

  “I can’t find anyone by that name in that time period. There’s no accident report in the police records or in the newspaper, maybe this guy is just a nut.”

  “Kid, didn’t we look up this Merritt guy? It’s strange that so many people mentioned him.”

  “We did look him up and couldn’t find any information about him either. And yes, it’s interesting everyone mentions him.”

  CHAPTER 31

  Present Day

  His phone chirped.

  “Hello, this is Lee.”

  “Hello, my name is Harry Winston.” Lee hit the speaker-phone button.

  “I was a patrol officer for the Bridgetown Police Department the night of the Grayson murder.”

  “Yes, Harry. What do you want to tell me?”

  Harry continued his story. “I wanted to know if you learned anything new about the murder.”

  “We haven’t learned anything more than what was in the papers, Harry. So what do you want to tell me?”

  “It started snowing about ten that night. At about twelve fifteen A.M. we got a call from the dispatcher. I was with another officer. We always patrolled with two men on duty for protection. The dispatcher said they were receiving calls that there were loud noises coming from the alley behind 30 Chestnut Avenue. When we arrived on the scene about 12:30 A.M., we pulled the car up at the end of the dark alley, got out and walked with flashlights toward the address. With the moonlight reflecting off the snow we could see a man sitting in the snow leaning against the wooden fence. It looked like he was sleeping, and getting covered with snow that was falling heavy and wet. We were afraid he was going to freeze, so we went over to the man, and when we turned our flashlights on him, we could see blood everywhere, on him and in the snow. It scared me pretty good. I dropped my flashlight, backing away from the body as fast as I could, it took a few minutes to get control of my senses then I picked my light u
p and brushed the bloody snow off of it. Telling you what I saw still makes my heart race.”

  “Excuse me, Harry, so you’re saying you were pretty shook up at what you were seeing?” Lee said.

  “Yes. It was the first time I’d been around a dead body.”

  “Okay, sorry, go on with your story.”

  “I stepped up to the man sitting in the snow, placing my hand on his shoulder I shook him, his head flopped over to the side landing on his left shoulder, it was attached to his body by a small amount of skin and tissue. I jumped back, sucking in air as I did. I could see his neck was cut from behind his ear to almost the other ear. We decided to go back to the squad car, call headquarters, and report the gruesome scene. It was almost more than I could handle.”

  “Wait, Harry, didn’t you see anyone out or around the body as you walked toward it?”

  “Oh, yes, by the time we got back to the scene after phoning in our report, there were people coming out of their houses. They were pressing close to the victim. We had to keep telling them to get back. Some of them were pretty aggressive, and would walk right up to the body.”

  “Okay, go on with your story, Harry.”

  “Well, there were houses on both sides of the alley, and the lights seemed to be on in all the homes.”

  “Didn’t you think that was odd?” Lee asked.

  “Well, not at first. I was so shook up from seeing the murder victim at the time, all I could think about was getting away from him. I guess our minds couldn’t comprehend the gory scene we’d walked into. We were both rookies, please remember it was our first murder scene. We were trained for this but to experience it first hand was something else. After phoning it in, we were told by the dispatcher to go back to the scene and guard it until back up came.”

  “I guess I could understand that,” Lee said.

  “We stayed in the alley until the detective and his crew arrived. He wanted to know about all the footprints. I told him they were in the snow when we showed up at the scene, walked up to the body to see if the guy was sleeping or drunk, and that’s when we saw the horrible sight.

  “We stayed until the detective told us to go back to our nightly rounds. I didn’t hear anything more about the case,” he sighed before continuing.

  “There were moments when my curiosity would get the best of me. I’d look up the detectives working the case, and ask about the investigation. The one in charge at the time wouldn’t give me any information. He said if I wasn’t working on the case, it was none of my business. The department ended the investigation three months after the murder.”

  “Harry, I have couple of questions for you.”

  “Okay, shoot.”

  “Do you know a Hank Cranston, a black man who ran a bar in Bridgetown at the time Bert was murdered?”

  “Yes, Hank is a good friend of mine.”

  Lee exchanged glances with Miranda deciding this guy was unreliable because of his connection with Hank.

  “He used to run a bar,” Harry continued, “in the Jew Hill district and later moved it down to the Chestnut Avenue area. He did some numbers running once in a while if you think Hank killed Bert, I would say you were wrong. He wouldn’t commit such a crime, but he could have because he was in great physical shape.”

  “Someone told us Bert Grayson liked to date black women like Hank’s daughter. They also said he got her pregnant then refused to marry her and Hank was so ashamed he shipped her out of town to live until she had the baby. Which gave Hank a reason to murder Bert,” Lee said.

  “Well, that’s an interesting theory, except for one thing.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Hank didn’t have a daughter. He only had one son, who went on to become a famous football player.”

  “Well, that’s the story I was told,” Lee said as he stood and started to pace.

  “Harry, would you know if Hank is still alive?”

  “Yes, I do know that, he lives in Bridgetown with his girlfriend. They closed his bar down a few years ago for drug peddling.”

  “Was Hank working for the police department when Bert was murdered?”

  “No, Hank never worked for the police. There was only one black man working for the police at that time and his last name was Harter. Just a little information for you, Lee, Hank only dated white women.”

  “Do you know of a Clay and Cain Bliss?”

  “Why, yes. They’re both bad news—” He stopped in mid-sentence, paused, and said, “No, I don’t know either of them.”

  Lee glanced at Miranda, she raised an eyebrow, while Lee nodded.

  “Did you know or know of a Lillian Grace?” Lee said.

  “No, I never heard of her, why do you ask about her? Who was she?”

  “She was just someone who knew Bert,” Lee said.

  “Do you know if the composite picture published in the paper of one of the men who left the bar with Bert the night he was murdered could have been Clay Bliss?”

  “No, I didn’t know there was a composite picture in the paper.”

  “So I guess you didn’t read about the murder in the paper?”

  “No, I was too busy working and making a living to spend time reading the newspaper.”

  “Do you know if there was a mafia in Bridgetown?”

  “No, as far as I knew there was only a small numbers running gang, and it was rumored that Bert was an enforcer for them.”

  “Oh, that’s an interesting bit of information,” Lee said as he took a seat beside Miranda.

  “Harry, do you mind me asking how old you are?”

  “No, not at all. I’m eighty years old. For your information Lee, I wasn’t friends with Bert. I only knew of him because of the murder. After he was killed I learned of his reputation as a drinker and bar hopper. I do know that no family claimed Bert’s body.”

  Lee nodded to Miranda.

  “His body was held in the morgue for a couple of weeks and the city buried him in a pauper’s grave. That’s about all I know.” Harry concluded with a sigh.

  “How do you know no one claimed his body?”

  “A friend of mine in the department told me.”

  “Okay, one more question for you, Harry. Did you know of a man named Will Pink, involved in a traffic accident the night of the murder?”

  “No, I never heard of him.”

  “If I have any more questions, can I call you?”

  “Yes, my number is 987-969-7150. Call me anytime.”

  “Thank you, Harry, you’ve been helpful. Bye.” Lee hung up.

  CHAPTER 32

  Present Day

  “I guess our bad mannered first caller didn’t know what he was talking about,” Lee said. “It would seem the only thing he had right was the footprints, but I’m not sure I believe what Harry said either. Can we check to see if he was on the police force and if he’s still alive? That guy could’ve been anybody calling to see what information we’ve come up with. So Hank didn’t have a daughter. Interesting, I think. When he said he was good friends with this Hank, I started to question what he said about everything.” He stood staring out the window, at the light snow falling and, melting as fast it landed on the ground.

  “What about when he said he knew the Blisses, then in the middle of the sentence said he didn’t know them?”

  “Kid, it’s getting late and I’m tired, it’s been one busy day. With this much interest I can’t wait to see who contacts us tomorrow.” He moved toward Miranda put his arms around her and nudged her body against his. Her cheeks were glowing. Her lips were an inch away from his. He could smell her lipstick.

  “I agree, Lee, and I’m going to bed as well. As soon as you let go of me.” Pushing him away she turned to walk up the steps.

  “Don’t pull away, Miranda.”

  “Get that out of your head, Lee, it isn’t going to happen, at least not tonight.”

  “Oh, so you’re leaving me hope.”

  “No, not at all. I’m only trying to let you down
in a gentle way, but I’m a woman and you never know, I might change my mind at any time. Good night, Lee.”

  Lee was left standing in the room with the exhilarating smell of her perfume penetrating his mind.

  Alone in his room he was thinking about Miranda how beautiful and distant she was. Or was it all an act? Maybe she’d had her heart broken and didn’t want to take a chance again. He walked over to the sliding door and stood staring at the outline of the tall mountains in the distance against the clear star filled sky. Shivering at the eerie look of daylight from the moon as it lit the expansive manicured lawn back to the black forest, causing the hair on the back of his neck to stand up. A quick glance at his watch told him it was midnight, yawning he took one last look at the night scene.

  What’s that? He was trying to get a better look with his eyes riveted on what he thought was a tall figure stepping out of the tree line.

  He moved to the other door that didn’t have a screen. The figure looked like a man walking in the direction of the house. He rubbed his eyes. Focus, eyes, focus. Maybe it was a deer, but it looked like a man picking his way toward the house. With the lights off in his room the figure couldn’t see him.

  There, he moved again. It was a man, now he was running toward the house.

  Lee stepped back into the shadows of the room, his eyes followed the interloper up the steps. The ski mask only revealed the nose, eyes, and mouth. He pulled on the door handle, but it didn’t budge, when he looked down to jimmy the lock, Lee made his move to the door. The burglar must have caught the movement in his peripheral vision and glanced up.

  Lee grabbed for the door at the same time flipping the outside light on, in one powerful jerk he opened the door with such force it almost broke the glass. Lee bounded onto the deck but the intruder was already halfway to the woods.

  Running hard and fast in pursuit he was soon out of breath. Ten feet away from the intruder his lungs were burning, stopping he bent over resting his hands on his knees and sucking air.

  His eyes were riveted on the man who stopped suddenly at the edge of the woods. On instinct Lee started to run for him again. The stranger smiled and disappeared into the black forest. By the time he reached the woods his chest was aching and his heart was racing. Sweat was rolling down his face. He stopped at the entrance to the woods staring, not knowing the path that the intruder seemed to know so well. Lee thought he might be standing in there looking back with a smirk on his face. As Lee turned to walk back to the house he saw a light on upstairs in the mansion. He had a quick glimpse of Miranda’s black outline standing at the window, then she disappeared.