A Thorn Among the Lilies

by Michael Hiebert

  “Okay, Commander. And the mayor? Why the mayor?”

  “Yeah, the mayor. I want background on everything you can get me on him and his dead wife.”

  “The mayor had a wife?”

  “Apparently she was hit by a drunk driver thirteen years ago.”

  “And you want their background info, why? Especially someone who’s been dead thirteen years?”

  “Just call it one of my hunches.”

  “I hate your hunches.”

  CHAPTER 44

  Leah was still waiting on the background checks to come in. In the meantime, she figured she may as well follow up on the one good lead Abe and Dewey happened to stumble upon: Noelina Waters.

  After looking up Noelina’s address, Leah got in her car and went to pay the lady a little visit.

  Noelina Waters lived on Thompson Drive, which made for a short but rather pretty trip from the station. A mixture of evergreens and deciduous trees lined the sides of streets between houses, and grasses and sedges grew amongst them. There were even clumps of hollies, junipers, and berried shrubs that glistened in the afternoon sunlight. Two mockingbirds dipped in and out of a batch of white violas.

  When she arrived at the house, there were two cars in the driveway, a red Volkswagen Bug and a dark blue Dodge coupe. What there wasn’t was any sign of a blue truck like the one the boys had said they saw her driving.

  Leah got out of her car and followed the concrete path to the door. The front yard was well kept, with evergreen sweet flags lining the path. Even in the winter they were in bloom and looked very pretty. A large willow practically filled the front yard, its branches draped heavily with Spanish moss. The winter sun shining through it made everything take on an almost mystical glow.

  The path ended at the steps leading up to the porch, but a garden continued on beneath what was probably a bedroom window. The front tire of a Big Wheel stuck out from around a small shrub and Leah guessed that Noelina must have kids. At least one, anyway.

  She checked her watch. It was half past one. That was good, she shouldn’t be interrupting lunch or anything like that.

  Ringing the doorbell brought the sound of tiny feet running on hardwood. When the door opened, the boy on the other side was all red hair and freckles. He wore a red shirt almost completely tucked into black sweatpants and had bare feet. His eyes were blue and looked polished, like the stones Leah and Abe sometimes pulled out of the Anikawa River.

  He stood there staring at Leah in silence, just the screen door between them.

  “Is your mother home?” Leah asked.

  The boy nodded, but didn’t move or say anything. He started hanging off the brass doorknob.

  “Can I talk to her?”

  More nodding. Still no moving or talking.

  “Can you get her for me?”

  The boy turned, took two steps into the foyer, and yelled, “Mom! Someone’s at the door! They want you!”

  “Who is it?” came a call back from somewhere in the house.

  “I don’t know!” It sounded like the boy was getting fed up.

  “Ask them!”

  With a sigh, the boy took the two steps back to the door and his stony eyes stared into Leah’s. “Who are you?”

  “My name is Detective Leah Teal,” she said. “I’m with the Alvin Police Department.”

  He took his two steps away again, and yelled, “It’s the police!”

  “The police? Tell them I’ll be right there!”

  It wasn’t quite the introduction Leah wanted, but it worked. Sure enough, within a few seconds a dark haired woman was at the door. She had her hair tied back and wore an oversized shirt and purple sweatpants. On her feet were purple fuzzy slippers. Leah guessed this was her “housecleaning look.”

  “Hi,” she said, hesitantly and out of breath. “You don’t look like no police.”

  Leah flashed her badge. “That’s cuz I’m a detective. I don’t wear a uniform. I don’t get the fancy car either.”

  The woman looked past Leah at the brown sedan parked on the side of the road.

  “You’re Noelina Waters?” Leah asked.

  “Yeah, but folk just call me Noel. I have no idea why my folks called me Noelina. Apparently it was my daddy’s idea. Anyway, may I ask why you’re here?” she said, sounding a little anxious. “Somethin’ wrong?”

  “I wouldn’t say somethin’ was necessarily wrong, I would just like to ask you a few questions concernin’ a case I’m workin’ on is all. If that’s all right with you?”

  “Certainly.”

  There was a huge hesitation while Leah waited for the woman to invite her in until she realized Noel Waters was expecting her to ask the questions out here.

  “Do you mind if I come inside and ask ’em? Be a mite more comfortable, I reckon,” Leah said.

  “Oh, no, not at all. I’m sorry. I just ain’t had no police showin’ up at my door before, Miss . . . I’m sorry, what was your name again?”

  “Detective Teal.”

  “Detective Teal,” Noel Waters said.

  She brought Leah into her living room, which was right off the foyer. “Can I get you anythin’?” Noel asked. “Cup of tea? Coffee? Glass of water?”

  “No, I’m fine.”

  Leah took a seat on the long green sofa that ran beneath the picture window. There were two matching chairs in the corners of the room and everything faced the television, which stood on a back stand in front of a faux walnut wall. Above the TV was a framed picture of Santa Claus, and, from where she sat, Leah could tell right away there was something weird about it.

  “Actually,” she said, “maybe I will take that glass of water after all.”

  With a smile, Noel left to get the water and Leah took the opportunity to get up off the sofa and examine the Santa picture more closely. Just as she had expected—the whole thing was made from tiny stitches. There were also little beads used in parts of it. She couldn’t imagine how tedious something like this had to be to make.

  Noel returned and handed a glass of water to Leah. She noticed Leah looking at the picture. “You like that?” Noel asked. “It took me near on six months to finish. It’s the biggest cross-stitch pattern I’ve ever done.”

  “Looks very complicated and difficult,” Leah said, searching through the picture for any part where the stitching pattern might match the pattern they were seeing on the eyelids of the victims.

  “It’s really not, once you get the hang of it. It’s more frustrating than anything. Especially if you lose your count and miss a stitch or put in one too many.”

  Leah went back to her seat on the sofa. Noel took the chair to her left.

  “So,” Leah said. “I couldn’t help but notice you have two vehicles in your driveway. They both belong to you?”

  Noel laughed. “No, I only need one. The other’s my husband’s. Mine’s the Bug. I just think it’s so cute.”

  “So your husband’s home today?”

  “No, he’s actually up in Montana on a business trip. He’ll be back next Friday unless things change. They tend to change a lot with his work.”

  “What’s he do?”

  “Handles the buying and selling of ranch land. Deals a lot with foreclosures and banks, but also with personal sales.”

  “I see.”

  “He’s up looking at a piece of property that his company is thinkin’ ’bout buyin’ for themselves just to sit on as an investment. Six hundred acres or something like that. I can’t recall the exact size. But it’s pretty big.”

  Leah took a sip of her water, setting the glass on a coaster on the coffee table in front of the sofa when she was finished. “You work at . . . Frankie’s Bakery,” Leah said. “That right?”

  Noel gave her a huge smile. “That’s right. It’s my bread and butter, I like to say.”

  “How come you ain’t at work today?”

  “I don’t go in every day, or sometimes I just go in for a couple hours and make sure things are runnin’ fine.” />
  “Doesn’t the boss mind you workin’ that way?” Leah asked.

  Noel laughed again. “Oh, I thought you knew. I am the boss. I own the place. Frankie is my husband.”

  Leah felt dumb. She should have at least done enough research to know something as basic as that before coming to question someone. But this might also explain the truck.

  “I assume, bein’ the boss an’ all, occasionally you must need to buy supplies, probably on a regular basis. Do you go get those from somewhere, or are they delivered?”

  “Usually they’re all delivered, but sometimes I’ll go pick up a load of flour and sugar and yeast and whatever else we might need if we have a big week or something special like Christmas. I just had to go do my own pickup a few days ago, in fact.”

  “And there’s enough room in your Bug for that? Seems like it would fill up pretty quick.”

  Another laugh from Noel. “Gosh no. I have access to a pickup I borrow from a friend when I need it. She lends it to me and in exchange I give her more baked goods than she can eat in a month.”

  “Where’s this friend from?”

  Noel’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Why? Is she in trouble? Are you lookin’ for someone with a pickup? There’s lots of people with pickups, you know.”

  Leah took a deep breath. Should she lie? She never liked lying. Should she stretch the truth? It was better than lying. Actually, the best response is to just omit part of the truth. Then she’s not lying at all. She’s just avoiding.

  “I’m involved with a case right now where we believe the perpetrator used a truck as a getaway vehicle. It happened in Alvin. I’m just trying to strike everyone I know with access to a pickup or who owns a pickup off my list.”

  “Well, you can definitely strike Cassandra off your list. She doesn’t live in Alvin and she doesn’t drive her pickup here. Only I do. I drive up to her place, leave my car there, take her pickup, and later return it and get my car back.”

  “Okay, that’s great, thanks.” Leah had pulled out her pad and written all that down. “Now, if you don’t mind and for the sake of me not getting screamed at by my chief of police, could I please have Cassandra’s last name and where she lives?”

  “Sure. It’s Cassandra Benson. And she’s up in Birmingham. Has the cutest little cottage-style house you’ve ever seen. And boy, if you want to see someone who can cross-stitch, she’s your girl....

  When Leah got back to the station, she immediately called Detective Truitt.

  “Hi, Dan, it’s Leah. I have a potential I need you to check out.”

  “It’s what I live for.”

  “I know.”

  “Who is it?”

  “Name’s Cassandra Benson. Lives in Birmingham. Apparently an expert at cross-stitching and owns a blue Ford pickup.”

  “That hardly implicates her as a serial killer.”

  “I know. I just have a feeling.”

  “I know feelings. Okay, I’ll check her out.”

  “Thanks.”

  “And, Leah?”

  “Yeah?”

  “What are you doing for New Year’s Eve?”

  “Um, what? Why?”

  “Can I come down there and take you out? I’ll let you order your own steak and everything.”

  She smiled. Of course, he couldn’t see it. “Okay. I know a great place in Willet Park, and they always have fireworks at midnight in Willet Park. The restaurant’s right on the water.”

  “Isn’t that where Mercy Jo was found?”

  “Other side of the lake.”

  “Kinda creepy,” Truitt said.

  “Too creepy?”

  “No, that was excitement. I like creepy.”

  “Okay.”

  “What’s the place called? I will make reservations.”

  Leah felt dumb, she was smiling so hard. “It’s called Waves on Willet.”

  “Sounds great. I’ll get back to you on Cassandra Benson.”

  “Thanks, Dan.”

  CHAPTER 45

  It was the twenty-ninth of December. The day Carry would say is the greatest day of the year because it was the day she came into this world. It was her birthday. Jonathon even had a dozen roses delivered to Carry’s house; although when her mother asked her who sent them, Carry just got tongue-tied, and said, “A friend from school.” She was still a little gun-shy (and a little embarrassed) to talk to her mother about her love life, despite what Madame Crystalle had told her.

  Even Abe and Dewey seemed to give her a gift today: the gift of quietness. Other than wishing her a happy birthday, when they came in for lunch (Carry’s mother made grilled cheese sandwiches—one of Carry’s favorites), Dewey didn’t talk about atom bombs, antigravity boots, ray guns, or anything stupid and dorky all the way through the meal. It was the most delightful lunch Carry could remember having all year.

  She even received three happy birthday phone calls from girls at school she didn’t think really liked her. Maybe she’d have to reassess her popularity status after all.

  After lunch, the boys raced outside to play with Abe’s new bow and arrow. Carry tried to watch television for a while, but all the birthday attention had her too hopped up. She went into the kitchen, where her mother stood at the sink cleaning up the lunchtime dishes.

  “Hey, look who it is,” her mother said. “The number-one birthday girl. I hardly get to see you that often anymore.”

  “What do you mean? I’m always here. Just usually watching TV.”

  “Not true. You were out just a day or two ago. Even stayed forty minutes past curfew.” Carry wondered if she was going to get reprimanded now. Her mother was always slamming her for something.

  “So, are you gonna tell me, or do I have to pry it outta you?” her mother asked.

  “What?”

  “About the boy.”

  “What boy?” But Carry felt her face growing pinkish. Stupid face.

  “Caroline, do I look like I just fell off a turnip truck? The boy you’ve been seein’.”

  “What makes you think I’ve been seein’ a boy?”

  “Mothers know these things. Is he cute?”

  Carry blushed completely. “Mother, I am not discussing my love life with you.”

  “Oooh, your love life. Is he good to you?”

  “He’s very sweet and very cute. Can we leave it at that?”

  “He sent the roses?”

  Carry just nodded. They were on the coffee table in the living room. They were beautiful—twelve velvety red, long-stemmed roses with baby’s breath in a beautiful crystal vase her mother gave her.

  “I just have one more question that’s vitally important.”

  “What’s that?”

  “How old is he?”

  Carry hesitated. “Seventeen.”

  “An older boy.” Her mother went back to washing dishes. Thank God. Still, Carry felt the conversation was left dangerously unfinished.

  “Mom, this isn’t like last time—”

  “It better damn well not be like last time.” Then her demeanor changed. “I suppose you’re only two years apart. That’s less than me and your pa was. I’m okay with two years. So when do I get to meet him?”

  “I dunno.” She couldn’t believe her mother just approved of her dating.

  “I’ve got an idea. Why not invite him to your birthday dinner tonight?”

  “Seriously? You don’t think that would be . . . awkward?” Carry felt like she was walking into a trap.

  “What’s a little bit of awkwardness among family?”

  She decided to spring the trap. “Okay . . . I’ll call him and see if he’s free.”

  Carry ran to her mother’s room to use the phone in there. At least you had a modicum of privacy on that phone. She quickly dialed Jonathon’s number. He answered on the second ring.

  Carry asked, “Hey, what’re you doin’?”

  “Homework. Why do you sound so excited?”

  “My mom wants to meet you. She asked me to invite you to
my birthday dinner tonight. We’re going to the Waterhouse. It’s gonna be awesome.”

  “I love the Waterhouse. But are you sure nobody minds me tagging along?” he asked.

  “My mother said she’d love it if you came along.”

  “If who comes along?” Abe said, wandering into his mother’s bedroom after hearing Carry on the “quiet phone.”

  “None of your business, ass face,” Carry said. “No, not you, Jonathon. I was talking to my dweeby little brother. My mom actually wants to meet you. She flinched a bit when I told her your age, so try to act maybe fifteen or sixteen.”

  “What? How?”

  “Sorry, that was me tryin’ to be funny.”

  “Should I meet you at the Waterhouse or come to your place first?”

  “Come here first. Come as soon as you can. I’m so nervous and excited. This is gonna be great.”

  “Or a complete disaster,” he said.

  “Okay, Mr. Negative. Thanks. I hadn’t put that option into my head.”

  “Wait a minute,” Abe said, “while we’re talkin’ ’bout people taggin’ along, is it okay if Dewey comes?”

  “Absolutely on no accounts is Dewey to set foot in the same restaurant as me,” Carry said. She still had Jonathon on the other end of the phone.

  “Wait for a second and think this through, Caroline,” her mother said, joining Abe and Carry in the bedroom. “If you just have Abe, odds are he’s gonna be annoyin’. But if you bring Dewey, he will at least have someone else to talk to.”

  Carry looked to Abe. “You promise not to be a little Piss Bucket if I let you bring your friend? And keep the level of Piss Bucket comments to a minimum?” She actually expected her mom to go all crazy about her use of language, but, surprisingly, she didn’t.

  “I promise,” Abe said with a wide grin.

  “Great!” Jonathon said, hearing the exchange over the phone. “I wanna meet this Dewey I’ve been hearing so much about.”

  “I can’t believe I’m even entertainin’ this idea,” Caroline said. “Okay, fine. Invite Dewey. But he’s sitting in the back of the car with you, Abe.”

  “That’s fine,” Carry’s mother said.

  “My God, this phone is no longer a privacy phone. See you soon, Jonathon.”