by Donna Doyle
“No, I just felt like having the soup. All this rain . . .”
“I’ve been making meat loaf like crazy,” Tia said. “Comfort food, that’s what people want in the rain. Lucas said he was going to stop by after school, but he saw Mrs. Stark’s car out front. She’s there a lot?”
Lois Stark, the library board president, was the wife of the former police chief.
When library clerk Carmela Dixon had briefly been under suspicion for Lyola Knesbit’s murder, Mrs. Stark had put Carmela on leave and had taken over the library’s financial administration. It was a sore point for Kelly because, as the
director, the library finances were part of her job, not the board president’s. Now that the murderer had been charged and was in prison awaiting trial, and
Carmela was back at the circulation desk, there was no reason for Mrs. Stark to maintain a regular presence at the library. And yet, she continued to do so.
“She’s usually not in on Fridays,” Kelly said.
“I’ll let him know. I think he wants to go to the library because me and Carrie are arguing so much.”
“Is she still having a hard time over her break-up with her boyfriend?”
Tia nodded soberly. “I just can’t get through to her. She’s never been like this.
She lost her job at Sloppy Joe’s and I don’t let her drive the car because the deal was that she’d pay for her car insurance. She’s mad at me about that, but I don’t see her getting another job. Well, I’d better get back into the kitchen. All this rain is making people hungry,” she said as a group of diners entered the restaurant.
“It’s too bad about Carrie,” Troy said, glad of a change of subject. “But I told Leo about Sloppy Joe’s needing a waitress and he told Mia and she got hired.”
Kelly’s smile was genuine. “Did she? That’s really good news. Now that she has a job and an income, she’ll be able to get her life back on track.”
Mia Shaw, the daughter of Leo Page, acting police chief of the Settler Springs Police Force, had moved back to town after spending time in drug rehab. She’d left her husband and her former ways and was trying very hard to rebuild a life for herself. Her parents had custody of her children but eventually, if everything went right, Mia wanted to be their full-time mother again. It was going to take time, but so far, Troy knew that Leo was pleased with his daughter’s progress.
And with her ex-husband Travis Shaw locked up on a murder charge, maybe Mia would be able to leave the past behind.
3
Mia’s Mailbox
When Troy showed up at the police station the next day for work, there was no one else in the office. He was used to Kyle not being there when he arrived; Kyle, who relied upon a motorized scooter to get around, issued traffic and parking tickets, and he started his day at nine o’clock in the morning. But Leo Page, who had been the acting police chief since Chief Stark had been relieved of his duties at the end of the previous year, was always there to update Troy.
Rather than heading out in the squad car, Troy settled down at the desk in the common area and started on paperwork while he waited for Leo to return from wherever he’d gone.
He didn’t have long to wait. A half hour later, Leo came in and slammed the door behind him. It was unlike the genial Leo to indulge in temper. “What’s up?”
Leo looked disgusted. “Mayor Truvert is going to move mountains if he has to do it, just so he can get his brother-in-law back as police chief.”
“What’s going on?” Troy knew that Leo didn’t regard the position possessively; he’d been named to it after Chief Stark’s son was arrested for murdering his girlfriend. Scotty Stark had also been a major dealer in the local drug trafficking.
Troy knew that Chief Stark was aware of the drug dealing; he also suspected that Chief Stark had a hand in the trade. Chief Stark had been relieved of command, but his role in the drug trade hadn’t been investigated and since it happened, Mayor Truvert, whose sister Lois was married to Chief Stark, had been campaigning to get his brother back on the job.
“I feel like we’re fighting a losing battle over this,” Leo said.
Troy held his tongue. It had taken him long enough to convince Leo that drug dealers in Settler Springs had a lucrative business going, one which, he was convinced, had powerful allies in the local government. He couldn’t prove it and he couldn’t generate enough evidence to force the borough council to pursue the matter. Leo had been resistant to the idea at first, and it was only after he’d accompanied Troy on a drug surveillance that turned into the arrest of his ex-son-in-law that he’d come to accept how severe the problem was.
“The Mayor wants to get rid of Kyle,” he said, throwing down his sheaf of papers.
“Get rid of Kyle? Why? He busts his rear out there, in all kinds of weather. Those tickets bring in money for the budget. Why does he want to get rid of Kyle?”
“Because he wants to have extra money in the budget so that he can bring his brother-in-law back.”
“Chief Stark made more than Kyle. A lot more. How much money could they save by cutting Kyle’s position? Then I’d be the one writing parking tickets.”
“You and me both. I told the Mayor that Kyle pulls his own weight. And he’s popular, too, even if people are annoyed when they have to pay the ticket. But . . .” Leo shook his head. “Not everyone on the council wants the Chief back. They don’t say much, but a couple of them figure that where there’s smoke, there’s fire and they don’t want the drug problem to get any worse. That might buy us some time with this. They won’t want to see Kyle let go.” Not only was Kyle respected for the effort he put into issuing parking tickets, mundane though the task was, but he was a disabled veteran for whom traditional employment was not an option. Patriotic as small towns often were, Settler Springs valued his service to his country before his injury and they were unlikely to support taking his job away from him now.
“What drug problem?” Troy asked ironically, mocking the former police chief’s standard response when anyone brought up the issue. “A drug problem in our nice, quiet little town?”
“I don’t know, Troy,” Leo said. “I know that when you first told me what you suspected, I didn’t believe it. Didn’t want to believe it. But after what happened when we arrested Travis Shaw in that drug bust and then he ended up admitting to murder . . . you and I both know that we didn’t have enough concrete evidence to make it stick. I wanted him behind bars, so he’d be out of Mia’s life and away from the kids.”
“And that’s where he is.”
“Yeah, but . . . I don’t know. Something doesn’t make sense. I can’t help thinking that there’s someone else involved in all of this. Someone who’s calling the shots. There’s something not right. Mia found a dead rat in her mailbox yesterday.”
The change in subject seemed too abrupt for there to be a connection until Troy realized that Leo was merely continuing to travel his train of thought. “You think there’s a connection between a dead rat and—” he prodded.
“Travis’ murder trial. When it comes up. Mia will be a witness. If she’s scared off from testifying to the truth, and Travis says that you and I bullied him into confessing to a crime he didn’t commit, he’s back on the streets and we’re right back where we started from.”
For someone who hadn’t readily accepted the likelihood of Troy’s suspicions about the Police Chief’s possible involvement in crime, Leo had certainly advanced to the head of the class. He’d made a leap far beyond where Troy had gone. But it was all too plausible.
“You think that’s the plan? Shaw accepts the charge because he knows he’s going to get off when it comes to trial?”
Leo sat down, stretched his legs out in front of him, and frowned at his scuffed shoes. “I don’t know. It sounds pretty unlikely, I guess, doesn’t it?”
“So does a dead rat showing up in your daughter’s mailbox.”
Leo nodded. “I want you to go over there and find out about it. A full report.
A dead rat in a mailbox is a message.”
“Not to mention unhygienic. And a violation of some kind of postal regulation, I’m guessing, since mailboxes are federal property. Did the mailman see it?”
“He’s the one who told her it was there. He gave her the mail personally, but he said he won’t deliver it if it’s still there today. I went over and got it. But it’s no good me writing it up; I’m her father. I took a photo, for evidence. But I want you to talk to Mia and to the mailman. You know Harry Carletti.”
Troy nodded. “I’ll go there first,” he said. “Before he’s done for the day.”
Harry Carletti was a voluble mail carrier who enjoyed his work. He knew everyone on his mail route and their pets, too.
“Not much startles me, but I gotta admit that when I saw that dead rat in Mia Page—Mia Shaw, I guess she is now, although since she’s divorced, she might be going back to her maiden name, and I wouldn’t blame her a bit—in her mailbox, I must have jumped back about three feet. I’ve been delivering mail for twenty-five years and nothing like that has ever happened to me.”
“What did you do after you saw the rat?”
“Closed the mailbox—you know, she lives in that little apartment complex and the mailboxes are across the street, so anyone could have put the rat in it and no one to see—and then I knocked on her door and gave her her mail and told her why I was delivering it to her doorstep. Then I told her that she’d need to get the rat out of there before today. It was gone, so I guess someone took care of it. Probably her dad. I’ll bet he’s fit to be tied over someone doing something like that to his girl. Mia was a good kid when she was young. It was only when she went off to school and met that louse Shaw that she got into drugs. She’s trying to clean up now, they tell me.”
“She’s clean now. And working.”
“Is she? Good for her. The Pages went through a lot of heartache over the years with all that was going on. I don’t know if they’ll be too willing to let her have the kids back, for fear she’ll start doing drugs again. Those drugs, they just ruin a life. I tell you, we’ve had problems in Settler Springs, I don’t deny it, but lately, it just feels like there’s the town we know and then there’s a hidden town, where all sorts of things are going on that we don’t see.”
“Putting a rat in a mailbox, that’s a fine, isn’t it?” Troy asked, steering Harry back to the subject.
“I’ll say it is. The only thing that belongs in a mailbox is mail. The fine can be as much as $10,000. As high as $250,000 for defacing a mailbox. I’d say a rat is defacing a mailbox. Rats carry germs. Of course,” Harry said realistically, “with the mailboxes being across the street, anyone driving by could have done it at night and no one would have seen.”
“Someone might have seen, though. Someone in the complex.”
“Maybe. But that doesn’t mean that anyone will admit to seeing it.”
4
Mrs. Stark Stationed at the Library
“But who would do that?” Mia asked Troy. “I grew up here. I was gone awhile,” she said, not going into detail about her life as the wife of Travis Shaw, her addiction or her battle to overcome her drug habit, because he already knew her story. “I don’t have enemies. I’m working now at Sloppy Joe’s, and people are nice when they see me. They really are.”
“Your dad thinks that Shaw is involved.”
They were in Mia’s small apartment. The furniture was second-hand and there wasn’t much of it, but she kept her place clean. In the corner of the long area that served for both living room and dining section, there was a toybox that hadn’t been there before. Troy wondered if the Pages were bringing the kids over to Mia’s so that they could see her at her home. Leo would be cautious where his grandkids were concerned, but he was first and foremost a family man and he would want Mia to resume her full responsibilities as a mother. Someday.
Mia shook her head impatiently. “My dad thinks Travis is responsible for everything from my addiction to the global warming of the planet,” she said dismissively. “My addiction was my fault and getting cured is my achievement. I’m not giving Travis any more control over me. But he’s in prison; I doubt if they’re letting him sneak out to put a rat in my mailbox.”
“You don’t think he’s sending you a message?”
Mia sighed. She was still dressed in the polo shirt and pants that she wore as a waitress. Troy had made the arrangements to meet with her after she got off work so that he could write up a report and have it on file.
“Travis isn’t that subtle,” she answered.
“I don’t know that I’d call a rat in your mailbox proof of subtlety,” Troy disagreed, but smiled as he did so. He didn’t want to alarm her, and he didn’t want to rush to judgment on Leo’s theory. He wanted to find out who had done it. “But we’ll let that go. What about his friends?”
“He wasn’t from here,” she said. “He didn’t have friends in Settler Springs. He’s from Punxsutawney. It’s not so close that he’d have traveled back and forth.”
“But he was here,” Troy reminded her. “He was dealing here.”
“I know all that. But that doesn’t mean he has friends.” Her smile lacked mirth. “Addicts don’t have friends,” she said, candor and pragmatism plain in her thin face. She still looked like an addict, he had to admit; thin, scrawny, as if she still used. But it would take time for her body to restore itself to health, and she’d been through a lot of late.
“No one who would do him a favor while he’s locked up?”
She shook her head. “It’s not a club, you know. It’s not the Mafia and it’s not a fraternity. It’s just a supply. That’s all. There’s no one who bought from him who has any use for him now. What good is he to them? He’s in prison. They’ll find someone else.”
“Do you know who that someone else is?” That wasn’t an easy question to ask and he knew from the look on her face that she felt its sting.
“No,” she said, standing up from the couch. “I don’t. I don’t use anymore. If my dad thinks I’m still an addict, then—”
“He doesn’t,” Troy told her hastily. “He doesn’t at all. He’s proud of you. But he’s worried.”
“He’s always going to be worried, you know,” Mia said bitterly. “That’s what you realize when you’re a reformed addict. They always think you’re going to slip back into old habits. I want to live my life clean. I want my kids. I want to go to church and help with the PTA and be a chaperone at school dances when my kids are older. The only way to do those things is to stay clean. You can tell my dad that.”
“I don’t have to tell him, Mia. He already knows.”
Troy drove past the library, but spying Mrs. Stark’s Lexus parked in front, he kept on going. This wasn’t anything that he planned to discuss with Kelly; there was no reason for her to be involved in a police matter that had no bearing on her routine, but she knew the community in a way that he didn’t and he’d have liked the chance to talk to her about it.
When he saw Lucas Krymanski walking away from the library, he pulled into an empty space and put down his window. “Need a ride home?” he asked.
Lucas shook his head. “Not in a cop car,” he said frankly.
Troy laughed. “You’re going to get wet,” he said. As usual, it was raining.
“I’m getting used to it.”
“Aren’t you going home?”
“Nah, I’m gonna go over to Tyler’s. His mom said I can.”
Remembering what Tia had told them about the arguments at home that she was having with Carrie, Troy wondered if Lucas had planned to stop at the library, until he saw Mrs. Stark’s car, to avoid going home, and if that was why he was going over to his friend’s house.
“Okay,” he said. “Stay out of trouble.”
Lucas nodded and kept walking, probably because he was as eager to get out of the rain as he was to avoid being seen in conversation with a police officer. The Krymanski reputation in Settler Springs was well established
and Tia Krymanski had her hands full keeping her brood on the straight and narrow path.
He wondered where the new site for drug deals was, now that Daffodil Alley and the Senior Citizen High-Rise were both failed locations for the transactions. He drove around the town, up and down the streets and alleys, to figure out what would be the most likely place for the grim commerce to resume. Again, it was something that Kelly might know; Settler Springs had a vast network of alleys, dead-end streets and throughways and she knew them all from growing up in the town.
Pulling into a parking space, he texted her.
Late lunch? Dinner? Sleepover?
The last was a joke. She had never spent the night at his home, and it didn’t look like she had any intentions of ever doing so. Still, it didn’t hurt to make the offer.
She didn’t answer right away. Just as he was wondering if he had offended her, the response came.
I have a church meeting tonight, so that won’t work. But Friday night is entirely open, and I have a buy one-get one coupon for dinner at Logretti’s. My treat. Interested?
Friday night. That was practically a date, wasn’t it?
He texted back quickly.
Of course, I’m interested. I’ll pick you up after I get off work? I’ll get Leo to cover for me and I’ll be done by seven.
Leo would understand and would take the last part of his shift, Troy was sure of it. He hadn’t mentioned anything going on with the kids, so he’d probably be willing to switch some hours so that Troy could have an evening out. Logretti’s was a nice Italian restaurant a half hour away from Settler Springs. They’d be able to talk without fear of being overheard by any of the local townspeople, a fate which always threatened when they ate, as they usually did because of their schedules, at the Café or Sloppy Joe’s.
