Dead of Summer

by Sherry Knowlton

  “Eeck. What a loser.” Melissa grimaced in disgust.

  “Yeah.” Graham took a sip of beer. “He went away for a long time on that one. Then he went back in for another stretch for something similar. He’s been out of jail for a few years. Apparently, Cecily Townes read him the riot act not long before she was killed. One of her staff remembers that she called Boomer out for hanging around the RESIST office when they were having some sort of training session for young girls.”

  Melissa brightened. “Oh, the self-image sessions for preteens. Cecily mentioned she’d gotten grant funding to study whether bolstering a positive self-image for at-risk preteen girls could help them avoid falling into trafficking traps.”

  “What a slime ball. I hope Cecily reported him to the police.” Alexa hugged Scout, who was still sitting on her feet.

  “I don’t think she did.” Graham shook his head in concern. “But her staff mentioned it to the police investigating Cecily’s death. And I think that social worker—is Jenkins his name? He knew about Kahn hanging around RESIST, too.”

  “What about these other women? Trooper Taylor mentioned he was working on something related to missing women in the area. But he didn’t tell me that the police had connected those incidents to Cecily’s murder.”

  “I don’t know much about that aspect. Maybe they just figured someone with Kahn’s history could be involved in that, too.”

  Alexa rubbed her eyes in exhaustion. “But Kahn’s history doesn’t seem to indicate any attraction to grown women.”

  “Yeah,” Melissa chimed in. “Sounds like it’s only the little girls who light up his life.”

  “Well, that’s everything I’ve heard through the grapevine. And now I have to get home to help Kate put the kids to bed.” Graham downed the last of his beer. “You’re taking tomorrow off, Lexie?”

  “You dweeb.” Alexa jabbed her brother’s arm with her index finger. “I’ve been away, but I know tomorrow is the Fourth of July. I need to sleep for at least a day—maybe the whole weekend. But I’ll be back in on Monday. Thanks for the chauffeur service.” Alexa rose to walk her brother to the door, Scout trailing a step behind.

  When Graham’s car vanished down the lane, Alexa turned to Melissa, stifling a yawn. “Thanks so much for staying here and taking care of the beast. Did he behave?”

  “He was a perfect angel, except for some moping because you were gone. Jim loved spending time with the big guy. I’m trying to talk him into getting his own dog.”

  “Are you staying here tonight?”

  “Yeah. I figured you’d be pretty out of it because of the travel and time zone changes. So I planned on staying until tomorrow or Saturday. I’ve got some chicken corn soup going in the Crock Pot. Why don’t we have a bowl before you go to bed?”

  “It’s nice to be home.” Alexa sighed between spoonfuls of soup. “And what could be better comfort food than chicken corn soup?” The two friends sat on the deck in the waning light. The persistent hum of crickets rose and fell in symphonic waves welcoming Alexa to full summer.

  “I made a ton so Jim could take some home. He’s jammed up on early shifts this week, so he’s bunking at his place—especially now that you’re back.”

  “Hey, with all the talk of police, I wanted to ask: Have they made any progress on your burglaries? It’s been almost two months.”

  “Nope. I’ve checked with both the Carlisle police and the state police. Neither have any leads. The Carlisle cops still think I was targeted because of the publicity around the exhibit. The state police think that’s as good a theory as any.”

  “So they’ve ruled out any connection to Cecily’s death?”

  “Yeah. I don’t think the cops ever gave more than a passing thought to that idea. And I can’t disagree. Someone who rips off a computer and some camera equipment doesn’t seem to play in the same league as someone who commits cold-blooded murder. I still feel bad about that jackass hurting you at my house.”

  Scout rose from his nap near the open door and burrowed beneath the table at Alexa’s feet. “Please, Melissa. My knees suffered no lasting harm. They’ve been completely healed for ages.”

  “At least the insurance came through to cover all but my deductible. And I broke down and got a security system installed at the gallery. I should have had one all along. I’d never forgive myself if one of my artists’ original works was stolen because I didn’t have enough security.”

  “What about your house? Did you get a security system there, too?”

  An impish smile flitted across Melissa’s face. “No. It would be foolish to sink a lot of money into the house when I’m thinking of moving.”

  “Moving? I thought you loved that house.”

  “I do, but Jim and I are looking for a place together. And we decided to start out with a blank slate instead of my house or his house. We’re already looking at places.”

  “Wow. That’s great. I go away for a few weeks and all of a sudden you’re settling down.” Alexa’s broad smile belied her hurt tone.

  “You know, I still haven’t come to terms with Cecily’s death. But I think it has taught me one important lesson.” Melissa raised her water glass in a mock toast. “Carpe fucking diem, baby.”

  By the end of the workweek, Alexa felt like she’d never been away. Although Brian Stewart had covered her cases while she was on vacation, she was still inundated with work.

  At noon on Friday, Melinda popped her head in Alexa’s doorway and announced, “I know you told me no calls. All the work-related calls can wait, but you’ve gotten some personal calls this morning . . .”

  “OK, you have my attention. Who called?”

  “Your friend, Melissa, called. Twice. That one’s a real pistol. Says she must speak with you on an urgent matter. A Quinn Hutton called. He must be one of your New York friends. Sounds like one of those WASP lawyers you used to work with.”

  “Actually, he lives here in Carlisle and teaches at Dickinson.”

  “No kidding? One of those academic types?”

  “You said several?”

  “What? Oh, the other calls. Jack Nash’s secretary called. She’s going to send you the minutes of the board meeting you missed.

  And Children of Light is having a thirtieth anniversary celebration on July 24th. Since you’re a board member, Jack asked that you attend. The final call might be more work-related. Tyrell Jenkins wants to meet and discuss Megan Wilson.”

  Alexa felt terrible that she hadn’t checked on the status of Meg’s disappearance. “Try to find some time early next week for Mr. Jenkins. Put the Children of Light thing on my calendar. I’ll contact Melissa and Quinn myself.”

  Melinda beamed at her boss. “So should I move this Quinn fellow to my priority call list?”

  “Not yet. But I’ll let you know if anything changes. We’ve gone out a few times. I’m not sure it’s headed anywhere.”

  “And Reese . . .?”

  “Is in Africa and not planning to return to the States for a good, long time.”

  The ample redhead sighed. “I’ve been telling George that you need to get a man in your life. But I guess you can’t cross that bridge until you come to it.”

  As always, Melinda’s goofy Pennsylvania Dutch sayings made Alexa laugh. “Enough already. I better call Melissa since she says it’s urgent.”

  Before her assistant made it back out the door, Alexa dialed Melissa’s number. “What’s so urgent?” she asked without preamble when her friend answered the phone.

  “I forgot to tell you. Cecily’s brother, Richard, will be in town this weekend to start packing up the house. I told him I would help. He said Maria and some people from RESIST are going to come. And I was hoping you could spend a few hours there with me tomorrow.”

  “I didn’t even know Cecily. I’m not sure how much help I’d be in sorting through her things.”

  “Lexie, it’s more for moral support. For me. I haven’t been in that house since the day we found Cecily’s b
ody. Richard had all that cleaned up by professionals, but I still need someone to hold my hand. Maybe revisiting the scene of the crime will be cathartic for both of us.”

  “Cathartic. My God, you’ve been watching too much Oprah and Dr. Phil.”

  “You know what I mean. Will you come along—even if it’s just for the morning?”

  “OK.” If it hadn’t been for the plaintive note of dread in Melissa’s tone, Alexa would have said no. She had no desire to walk into that house again. But, if Melissa needed her support, Alexa couldn’t refuse. “I’ll meet you at her house in the morning. What time?”

  Alexa couldn’t reach Quinn Hutton, so she left a brief message: “Hi. As you gathered, I’m back in town. Sorry I missed you. Maybe we can get together for lunch, and you can fill me in on what I missed at the board meeting. Give me a call.”

  As she put down the receiver, Alexa reflected that seeing Reese had dimmed Quinn’s luster a bit. Not that she was still pining for Reese. Their relationship was over for now—maybe forever.

  She and Quinn had never moved beyond a mild flirtation; basically, a couple of dates and a few vaguely interesting kisses. Still, she wasn’t quite ready to write him off. But his carefully constructed brand of cool didn’t appeal as much to the new Alexa, fresh from Africa’s healing juju, as it had to the damaged woman she’d been.

  “Maybe that’s why I suggested lunch?” Alexa giggled as she returned to the stack of work on her desk.

  Chapter Thirty-one

  “HEY, BUDDY. I AM SO sorry to leave you alone on my first real Saturday home. Last Saturday doesn’t count since I slept through most of it. But I’ll be home by late afternoon and we can hike over to Weaver’s Pond.” Alexa hugged Scout and gathered up her work gloves from the table.

  On the drive to Cecily’s, Alexa practiced deep breathing between each upshift of the Land Rover’s gears. By the time she reached the parking area, she felt calm enough to walk into the house. Then a ray of sun reflecting off the glass drew her attention to one of the windows. Suddenly, all Alexa could see was a vision of that same window covered with buzzing flies.

  A knock on the hood of the car broke Alexa’s dark reverie. Melissa, clothed in bib overalls, yelled, “I’m so glad you came. I couldn’t go in by myself.”

  Alexa eased out of the car before she replied. “Nice outfit. Lambert’s Cleaning Service?”

  “I got these overalls for a Halloween costume a few years back. Seemed like the perfect thing to wear.”

  “Now, maybe. What about this afternoon? It’s supposed to hit 95 degrees.”

  “I have shorts in the car.”

  “Standing out here babbling to each other isn’t going to make it any easier, you know.” Alexa took Melissa by the arm and strode toward the back door—the one that, last time, had been marred by a shattered window.

  Before they could knock, an outdoorsy-looking man in a polo shirt and chinos opened the door. Despite his gray hair, the man looked extremely fit for his age. “Melissa, thank you for coming. And who’s this?”

  “Hi. I’m Melissa’s friend, Alexa.”

  “Welcome, Alexa. I’m Richard Townes, Cecily’s brother. My daughters are inside. I’m expecting Maria Santiago and a few other volunteers from RESIST in a little while.”

  “So, how can we best help?” Melissa asked as they stepped into the kitchen. Alexa hardly recognized the room. A cheerless staging area of cardboard boxes and stacked dishes had replaced the copper warmth. The artificial smell of pine cleaning products hung over the room as if a tacky Christmas had arrived six months early.

  “As you can see, the twins and I made real headway with the kitchen yesterday. I’m tackling Cecily’s office right now. The girls took the bedrooms. Maybe you can go upstairs and help with that?”

  Alexa breathed a silent sigh of relief; she didn’t have to face the office where she had found Cecily’s dead body. Melissa seemed equally pleased as she jumped at Richard’s words.

  “Sure thing. We’ll head up there now.”

  Alexa sneezed at the top of the steps. Stuffy from summer heat, the second floor smelled of dust and the musty detritus of abandonment. Moving through the center hall, Alexa and Melissa followed the sound of young voices coming from a back bedroom. Alexa rapped on the door frame and stepped into the room, Melissa a few steps behind. “Are you the twins? Your dad sent us . . .” Alexa stopped when the two college-age girls looked up.

  One girl dressed in barely-there shorts, a midriff top, and combat boots had Asian features, although her purple-streaked spiky hairstyle overpowered her delicate face. The second girl, dressed in running shorts and a quick-dry t-shirt, was compact and athletic. Although her liquid brown eyes, creamy tan skin, and black ponytail hinted at Indian ancestry, the red bindi in the center of her forehead helped confirm Alexa’s initial impression.

  The two girls registered the confused look on Alexa’s face and broke into peals of laughter. The Indian girl spoke first. “Dad always does that to people. He just doesn’t think to explain.”

  The Asian girl interrupted. “I’m Deidre Townes. This is my sister, Sydney.”

  “Hi, I’m Melissa Lambert. We met at your aunt’s memorial service, but I know that was a tough day for your family. This is my friend, Alexa Williams. We’re here to help clear out the house.”

  Alexa regained her voice. “Hi. Sorry, but when your dad said twins—”

  “The short version of the story,” Deidre replied. “Dad and Mom were unable to have children of their own. So, in their late thirties, they asked Aunt Cecily to find them a family. Through RESIST, she located two baby girls who were available for adoption at the same time. I came from Thailand and Sydney from Mumbai. Since Cecily brought us to our parents on the same day, they’ve always called us the twins. They even celebrate our birthdays on the same day.”

  Sydney lifted a stack of lace from the bed. “I’m so glad you’re here. We have no clue what to do with all of this stuff. Are these tablecloths?”

  “Yeah,” Deidre chimed in. “We decided to start in here . . . sort of work our way up to dealing with Auntie C’s clothes. But we’re not sure whether this stuff has any real value.”

  “Well, let’s just start to sort through it.” Alexa picked up the stack of lace.

  Within the hour, the group had worked their way through two of the bedrooms. Alexa had been surprised at how austerely Cecily had lived. With the exception of a few family heirlooms, like the antique furniture and froth of ivory lace tablecloths, Cecily’s belongings consisted primarily of bed linens and household supplies. An entire room stored clothing and supplies clearly intended for RESIST’s beneficiaries. They left the room with RESIST items for Maria to deal with and tackled the rest, developing a to-be-donated pile and a family keepsake pile.

  “Mom couldn’t come because she was on-call at the hospital. But we’ll talk to her and Dad about some of this family stuff.” Sydney pointed to the smaller collection of items.

  “I’m going to ask Dad for one of these beds.” Deidre laid a hand on an intricately carved headboard. “Remember when we used to stay here in the summer and Auntie C would read us bedtime stories?”

  Sydney laughed and told Alexa and Melissa, “Her bedtime stories were not what you might expect. When we were six, she read us the Hindu epic, Ramayana. The next year, she chose The Odyssey.”

  The four moved into the central hall connecting the bedrooms and the single bath. “Do you want to take a break? Or are you ready to tackle your aunt’s personal things?” Alexa asked.

  Sydney and Deidre exchanged a look before Deidre answered, “Let’s do it.”

  Even Cecily’s bedroom seemed utilitarian. A cross above the double bed dominated the room’s decor. A collection of personal photos hung in a cluster on another wall. In one, a smiling Richard, Deidre, and Sydney posed in a studio portrait with a handsome woman, who must be their mother. An older photo showed Richard and Cecily with their parents. And a triptych showed three groups of pe
ople standing in front of RESIST clinics. Alexa recognized the Carlisle site.

  Melissa pointed to the other two and identified them. “That’s the office in Mumbai; this one is Bangkok.”

  The one anomaly in the cloister-like cell was the exquisite marble carving ensconced on the dresser. “Oh, the Quan Yin!” Melissa stroked the creamy white statue with her hand. “One of RESIST’s most important financial backers gave this to Cecily when we were in Bangkok. She is a Bodhisattva, the Goddess of Mercy and Compassion. Her role in Buddhism is somewhat akin to that of the Mother Mary in Christianity. I looked all over Bangkok to find one just like it. But everything paled in comparison to this beauty.”

  When the twins found out that Melissa had accompanied Cecily on a RESIST trip, they pummeled her for information. “Auntie C said she would take us both on a RESIST trip when we graduated from college,” Sydney offered.

  Her expression became downcast when her sister sighed, “Now, that will never happen.”

  Alexa could see that Melissa was trying to lift their spirits as she regaled them with stories about their aunt in Mumbai and Bangkok. As she listened, Alexa had to admit that Melissa’s description of Cecily as a saint was not off the mark.

  Soon, nearly everything in the bedroom had been sorted. Alexa reached into the recesses of the long narrow closet and pulled out a large hanging bag. “This looks interesting.”

  “Do you think she saved her habit from when she was a nun?” Sydney speculated.

  Alexa laid the bag on the bed and stepped aside. “One of you girls should open this intriguing package.”

  Deidre zipped open the old-fashioned clothing bag and drew out three dresses. All four women gasped as she held the first one in the air. It was an exquisite silvery confection of lace and crystal.

  “It’s beautiful,” Sydney bubbled. “It looks like something a flapper would have worn in the nineteen twenties. Maybe it belonged to Grandmére Deidre, your namesake.” She confided in Melissa and Alexa, “The Townes are an old aristocratic family. Auntie renounced all that when she entered the convent. Daddy was never interested in all those blue blood trappings either. Look at us—we hardly fit into that mold.” She giggled.