I took down the address and headed toward home. From downtown Hellenston, I could make the route to Chimney Rock in about 15 minutes. I did make the trip once in less than eight minutes. I had left Beth Horton's house with nine minutes to get in before my curfew. Beth had a beautiful set of blue eyes with a slightly purple hue and curly red hair. Not red like Charlie Brown's little girlfriend, but a soft auburn color. Her hair always kinked up when it was wet or the humidity skyrocketed. She liked to write poetry. Bad poetry that was usually about love or birds, or occasionally lovebirds. I wondered how she was doing.
I found the address and parked in front of the house. There were two white trucks in the drive. Both looked like typical construction trucks, loaded with building supplies and scraps. I walked around the house and through a gate leading into the backyard. I could see the addition being built on the house.
Two men were sitting on a knoll on the ground and working on what appeared to be sack lunches.
One was an older man in his 50's. His hair was thinning and graying. He wore a white t-shirt that was sprinkled with sawdust. A plaid button down shirt was lying across a sawhorse. The younger guy was in his early 20's. His hair was buzzed to almost nothing. He wore a maroon t-shirt with a Razorback on steroids bursting through a wall.
He held a sandwich in one hand and a cigarette between his lips. He would alternate the cigarette and the sandwich to his mouth.
"Mr. Mead?" I asked.
"Yes," the older man spoke cautiously.
"Mr. Mead, I'm Max Sawyer. I just wanted to talk to you for a minute."
Mead put his sandwich into the bag, "'Bout what?"
I sat down on the ground near him, "Please go ahead and eat. I just wanted to know a little about Mark Lofton."
"Mark? Are you a reporter or something?"
"Something. I am trying to find out why he got killed."
Mead looked at the younger guy who shrugged. "Okay," he said, "Mark was a good kid."
"I understand that he worked for you."
"Yeah," Mead answered, "he worked for me for over two years."
"Then he just stopped showing up to work?"
Mead shook his head, "No. He came to me a few months back. Said he his girlfriend got him a job in Little Rock. Supposed to be making a lot of money. Anyway, he wanted to know if I could use him on occasion when he wasn't working there. He was a good worker, so I told him I could."
"Did he say what the job in Little Rock was?"
Mead shook his head, but the other guy spoke up, "He said he was going to retire."
"Did Mark get high?"
Both men shook their heads, and Mead said, "Not that I know."
"Did he ever talk about his new wife?"
Mead shook his head, "No, I heard about it. I was a little shocked. He certainly had it in deep for that Rawls girl. Then to up and change so quickly. He never even mentioned it. Probably why she killed him."
I nodded. I was reminded of a wedding that I attended with Nikki a few years ago. The groom had not even wanted a bachelor party, but the bride insisted. The groom had his party, and then he left town with the stripper. The bride called the wedding off with everyone already in the chapel. I was sitting next to a black lady that had worked with the bride. She said it all, "One good freak’ll make you crazy."
I thanked them for their time and made my way back to the car. I began to wonder about Mark. If Leigh had gotten him a job a few months ago, then they knew each other before he began working at J.T.'s Club. How long had he known her? How did they meet?
Maybe everyone was right. Maybe he got exactly what he deserved.
I drove out of Chimney Rock without ever passing the house at 1120 Riverbed Cove. It was another memory I hadn't touched in a decade. I was certain that Tom was keeping the yard and house clean and kept. It had been rented a few times over the years, but now it remained empty.
Lisa was waiting for me when I pulled up to the curb. She jumped into the car and smiled.
"I'm ready to go fishing."
"We aren’t going fishing," I said.
"What?" Lisa was surprised.
"We were never going fishing. I found a different angle. So wouldn't you rather do exactly what Scott Gaither told us not to do.?"
"What do you have in mind?"
"Did Mark Lofton have a close friend?" I asked.
"I don't know."
"How about his parents?"
"They live over in Morton," she said.
Morton was a small town with about 62 people. It consisted of one convenience store that boasted that it sold everything from live bait to fine art, depending on one's definition of fine art. Everyone knew Morton because just outside the town was one of the areas little secrets, a cave mouth that lead deep into a dark labyrinth of caverns. Morton's constable had always tried to run kids away from the cave but to no avail. The area was fenced, but again the persistence of teenagers prevailed. Nearly every high school students from anywhere nearby had spent the night in the caves with a six pack or a bag of weed. Only two kids ever got lost in the caves. Apparently going deeper into the earth until they were never able to get out. That prompted a rush to seal the caverns for good, luckily the landowner refused and the ruckus soon was forgotten.
I looked at Lisa and smiled, "Let's go to Morton."
Lisa tilted her head, "Don't forget that you are still buying me lunch."
"I think I could swing a Big Mac for you."
33
We snagged a couple of burgers from McDonald's before I aimed the Z3 to the north. We were only on the road for five minutes when I noticed a police cruiser on the horizon behind me. I knew Scott would be watching, and he was wasting no time at all. Of course, he was distrustful of me; I was doing exactly what he told me not to do. I sped up to the speed limit, and the cruiser was still behind me.
Whoever got the duty to drive behind me today was going to be in for a long drive. I suppose, though, he could have a worse duty today. It was a beautiful day to be tooling down the highway.
I pushed the remote on the CD changer, and Frank Sinatra began crooning "Fly Me to the Moon." Lisa rolled her head toward me.
"You really listen to this kind of music?" she asked.
"Are you kidding?" I replied, "This is timeless music."
"It's okay."
I smirked and snipped, "I know it’s no country ballad, but it makes me feel good."
Lisa listened for a minute. "I might be able to get used to this," she said with a grin.
I downshifted into a curve as Frank pleaded to see what June is like on Jupiter or Mars. My friend continued to stay behind me. Since I had decided to give the officer a nice day, Lisa and I made a concerted effort to stop at any and every possible roadside attraction. I never knew how much one might have to pay for a piece of dead wood carved into an alligator.
By the time we reached Morton, our 45-minute drive had more than doubled. Not surprising, the cruiser was still behind us. I wondered what Scott had said after the officer called in for each stop we made. Lisa gave me the address, and after a few minutes, we found the dirt road that leads to the house. The Lofton's lived in a house that looked like it was encased in plaster. The whole house was a cube. The front yard had no grass after having been parked on by no telling how many run down vehicles.
I couldn't see the police cruiser any longer, but I had a feeling that he hadn't gone far. I parked in the gravel drive.
Lisa got out of the Z3 and looked at the house sadly, "How do...What do you plan to say?"
"The truth. I want to know about Mark and Leigh's relationship."
"Do you think they can help?"
"Let's see."
We walked up to the front door. I felt my heart skip. I felt nervous about talking to these grieving parents. But someone had to speak with them. Perhaps I should have brought Mandy along, but then again that might be a bad idea. She was accused of killing their son.
Mrs. Lofton answered the door. She was in her mid
-fifties, and she looked as if she had lived too long in this tiny town. Her visage wore the wear and tear of years of rural family life. Most people don't realize how difficult it is living so far from a real city. Money is rarely abundant, and scrimping becomes a way of life.
"Mrs. Lofton?" I asked.
"Yes," she spoke cautiously.
"My name is Max Sawyer. This is Lisa Day. We are working to bring your son's killer to justice. Can we talk to you?"
"Are you with the police?" she asked.
"We are working with them," I lied. "Ms. Day is with the Barnes County News."
Mrs. Lofton's expression never changed. She was apprehensive and distrustful.
Lisa spoke up, "Mrs. Lofton, I know it’s been hard for you. We only have a few questions we need answers to. Hopefully, we can find and help convict his murderer. If it's too hard, we understand.
Lisa was articulate and an artist. Mrs. Lofton's eyes soothed and she pushed the door open for us to enter.
"I thought they arrested Mandy for killing him?" she asked as we walked through the door.
We entered the Lofton's living room. There was an orange couch with wooden armrests and a paisley pattern that was quite loud. Two identical gray Laz-E-Boy recliners were situated around an old console television in the corner. The room was sprinkled with cheap ceramic pieces that looked like they had been purchased at flea markets or yard sales. The room was lined with the fake wood paneling that had been quite popular in the late 70's and early 80's.
On the wall were some assorted family pictures, including a picture of Mandy and Mark, took near a lake. They looked very happy in the picture, and it seemed strange to consider what was flowing underneath.
On the opposite wall was one of the Magic Eye pictures that were popular about twelve years ago. The idea was that if you stared at this montage of tiny photos then eventually a larger image would appear to pop out of the picture. I looked at it for a moment, and a tiger head protruded through the chaotic images.
Mrs. Lofton rested in one of the gray recliners. Lisa and I sat on the orange couch.
"Yes, ma'am," I answered her, "The police have arrested Amanda Rawls, but we are curious if you think she was capable of killing him."
Mrs. Lofton looked off at the picture of Mark and Mandy. "I don't know," she said softly.
"How did Mark feel about Mandy?" I asked.
"He always seemed to love her. They came here every Sunday for lunch. He doted on her and she acted like she loved him."
"What about Leigh Rozen? How did he feel about her?"
Mrs. Lofton shook her head, "He never told us about her. We didn't even know he was married until Friday. Everything seemed fine the last time we saw Mark and Mandy.
"When was that?" Lisa asked.
"About two weeks ago. Mark called and said that they wouldn't make it last Sunday."
"Do you think Mark had been seeing Ms. Rozen before that?" I asked.
She was tearing up, "I don't know. I didn't know him at all."
Lisa moved closer to comfort her, and Mrs. Lofton continued to talk,
"Poor Mandy must have been heartbroken. I don't know what came over him."
A good freak, I thought to myself.
Mrs. Lofton grieved for a few minutes with Lisa holding her hand. I sat quietly and let some things mull around in my head. Lisa continued to console her, and eventually she gave Mrs. Lofton her number in case she needed to talk.
We left after Mrs. Lofton had stopped crying. I was only on the highway for a minute before I reacquired our stalking cruiser. He had obviously been waiting for us to leave the Lofton's home.
Lisa appeared to be relieved to get out of the house. She brushed back her hair and let it flow through the wind. She leaned her head back.
"What did we learn?" she asked.
"Nothing new, except that Mark Lofton had been seeing Leigh Rozen for some time with some extreme secrecy."
"He was cheating on his fiancé."
"But no one even knew he had gotten married. There had to be someone who knew he got married."
"Like the preacher?" Lisa asked.
I smiled and looked at her with her soft, brown hair dancing in the wind. "You are brilliant."
"Why thank you," she said with an illuminating smile.
I gunned the engine, shifted up to fifth gear, and aimed the car along the double lines weaving between the mountains.
"Where to now?" she asked.
"I'm going to drop you at the courthouse. We need a copy of the marriage license. Someone married them."
"Better yet," Lisa said, "give me your phone."
I obeyed, and Lisa dialed the number. Within minutes she hung up the phone.
She winked at me, "Steve Reynolds is listed as the officiator."
"Who is he?" I asked.
Lisa shrugged in ignorance.
Lisa made a number of calls, but Steve Reynolds remained in the wind. There were seven Steve Reynolds that lived in the Little Rock area.
"Where was the wedding?" I asked Lisa.
"The license says Little Rock."
"Then let us assume that our Steve Reynolds lives in Little Rock.
That's only seven to shuffle through. Hopefully one is going to be our preacher."
"Do we just start calling?" Lisa asked.
"Might as well," I answered, "put on your best journalist face and start asking questions."
Lisa looked through the numbers and started dialing. Each time she began with a story about being with the state clerk's office. She told them she needed more information concerning a wedding he had performed.
The first four calls insisted that she had the wrong number. The fifth call produced a neurotic voice insisting that he did nothing wrong before abruptly hanging up.
"I think we have a winner," Lisa said with a smile.
"Great," I took the phone from her, "we need to get to him."
"I think he got spooked."
I quickly scanned through the contacts on my phone until I found Austin's number. I pushed the green Talk button. The phone rang.
When Austin answered, I gave him a quick summary and explained what I wanted to get from Steve Reynolds about Mark and Leigh Lofton's nuptials.
"Let me see if I can talk to him," Austin said.
"Great, he seemed spooked so watch yourself," I warned.
He took Steve Reynolds address and number and vowed to call back once he found the guy.
The clock on the dash read 4:27 p.m. I wanted to talk with Mandy about a few things. I didn't really want Lisa around with Mandy when I talked to her. Up until now, she may not have been aware of how long Lofton had been cheating on her. I was afraid that she may be in for some surprises.
34
It was 6:15 p.m. when I finally got back to the boat. I walked up the gangplank. Mandy was not in the cabin. I climbed up to the top deck to find her sitting in a deck chair.
"Where have you been?" she asked in an almost wifely tone.
"All over," I said in defense, "I think I may be closer to getting you off the hook."
"Really," she exclaimed.
"I have been busy tracking down clues for the past 14 hours."
"What have you found out?" she asked.
I sat down next to Mandy, "It seems Mark may have been stringing you along for longer than you originally thought. He must have been seeing Leigh for a few months. He kept a lot of people out of the loop. He was leading a very secretive, double life."
Mandy took this news with a good stride. At this point, very little would probably affect her. I assured her that I had every confidence that she would soon be cleared.
After we talked, I decided to prepare my famous shrimp Alfredo. I found a bottle of Deloach Chardonnay, a decent, but inexpensive wine, in the wine cooler.
As we ate, Mandy acted relieved that her ordeal might soon conclude. She ate and drank heartily. Of course, it could have been that my shrimp Alfredo was irresistible.
"We talke
d to Mark's mother today," I commented when my mouth was available between a thick juicy shrimp and a sip of wine.
"How's Janet doing?" Mandy asked.
It struck me that I had not known Mrs. Lofton's first name. I never thought to ask. I was slightly annoyed at myself for lacking the insight to inquire deeper. I wondered what else I might have overlooked.
"She's not doing too well. She's very confused about Mark," I answered her, "but she said she felt sorry for you."
"She's a nice lady," she said thoughtfully. Then she looked up at me and asked, "What do you mean 'we.'"
I had intentionally left out Lisa from the details. Not that I had any good reasons, I just omitted her involvement. I suppose I had a reason, but I'm sure, in hindsight, that it was a stupid reason. I decided to come clean with Mandy. Eventually, Mandy would have found out that Lisa had been helping.
"I've had some help over the last two days. Lisa Day thinks you are innocent too. She and I have been scurrying about gathering clues."
"Lisa Day?" she furrowed her brow, "I guess it’s nice to still have friends."
"It was her idea to find the person that married Mark and Leigh.
Maybe we can get more details about their relationship."
"That's nice," Mandy said as she downed the last of her glass of chardonnay. She reached for the bottle and filled her glass again.
She slid closer to me and whispered, "I want to thank you, Max. You have gone out of your way to help me."
"Anytime honey. I've always said I would be there for you."
"Lots of folks say that," she whispered before leaning toward me and kissing me softly on the lips. I started to pull back when she kissed me again. Her lips were soft and sweet from the wine. I kissed her back as she slid onto my lap.
For a brief moment, I was sixteen, and this was our first kiss. My pulse quickened with excitement as my arms wound around her. Her hands climbed my back and slid through my hair.
With my eyes closed, I inhaled everything around Mandy. She slipped her hands down my neck and over my chest. I felt her loosen the top button on my shirt. It was followed quickly by a second and a third.
A little voice inside my head kept screaming for me to slow down. I remembered the words of Saint Augustine, "Lord, give me chastity - but not yet."
Blood Remembered Page 12
