Dead of Summer

by Sherry Knowlton

  Deidre chimed in. “Yes, Daddy inherited all the family money, but he went west and built ski resorts. I guess Auntie C inherited some of the antique furniture and these outrageous dresses.” She pulled out a second flapper-style dress with long black fringe and gossamer sleeves.

  “I’ve got dibs on this one, Syd.”

  “That’s fine. I want the silver one.” Sydney elbowed her sister aside and plucked the final dress from the bag. When she held it in the air, both girls frowned in disappointment.

  “Blah.”

  “Blah, blah. Nothing special about this one.”

  Sydney tossed the dress on the bed with a dismissive gesture. Alexa, however, had been struck by the elegant simplicity of this gorgeous black dress. She picked it up.

  “No . . . this is lovely. It’s a slightly larger size and from a later era. Maybe this one belonged to Cecily when she was young.” Looking for the size, she located the label and breathed, “Chanel. It’s Chanel.”

  “I would never think of Cecily and Chanel in the same sentence,” Melissa commented.

  “Designer labels are just a trapping of the endless cycle of consumerism. Plus the dress is deadly dull,” Deidre pronounced.

  “Yep.” Sydney agreed with her sister. “The dress is too small for our mom. Since you’re so crazy about it, Alexa, why don’t you take it?”

  “I’ll admit I’m tempted.” Alexa nodded drily toward Deidre. “Despite the whole dangerous cycle of consumerism. But it may be valuable.”

  “We’ll ask Dad, but I’m sure he’ll be fine.”

  Richard Townes appeared in the doorway just as Sydney mentioned his name.

  “Of course you should have the dress . . . I remembered why the name Alexa Williams sounded so familiar. You were the one who found Cecily, right?” His voice broke for a moment and the twins looked at Alexa with sad expressions.

  Richard recovered then turned to Melissa. “May I speak with you downstairs for a moment?”

  Alexa and the girls completed a quick sweep of Cecily’s bathroom, throwing out everything but a few unopened toiletries. Finished, they headed downstairs for a break. They took some cheese, crackers, and sodas outside to the table where Melissa and Richard were sitting.

  Nibbling on a Triscuit with Brie, Alexa felt the hot sun beat down from directly overhead. She glanced at her watch. Nearly noon. She had hoped to finish her contribution to the packing effort by now and be on her way home. Just then, a van and a pick-up truck pulled into the driveway, and six people spilled out.

  A Latino woman dressed in a ratty t-shirt and bright orange headscarf led the group toward the house. She called out cheerfully, “RESIST is in the house.”

  Richard stood and welcomed the newcomers. “Thanks for helping out. We’ve got a lot of things packed up that can go to your warehouse. And we can certainly use some help with the attic and basement.”

  As he turned to lead the group into the house, Alexa caught his attention. “Richard, since the second shift has arrived, I’m going to leave in a few minutes. I’ve got some things to take care of this afternoon.”

  He leaned over the picnic table to shake Alexa’s hand. “Thanks so much for your help today. I know it wasn’t easy to come back to this house after finding my sister’s body. If you ever come to Telluride, you’ve got a place to stay.” He took a few steps and turned. “And be sure to take that dress. Cecily wore it to my mother’s annual New Year’s Eve party the day before she announced she was entering the convent. And, Melissa, I want you to have the Quan Yin as a remembrance of the trip you took with Cecily. The twins told me about its special meaning to you.

  “Girls, let’s get back to work. That snack should tide you over for a while. We can call to have some pizzas delivered in an hour or so.”

  After the flurry of activity, the patio seemed silent with just Melissa and Alexa at the table. Alexa noticed that the dark green wheat rippling in the languid breeze had reached its full growth. Harvest would not be far away.

  “You have to see this.” Melissa interrupted Alexa’s reverie by pushing a Kraft envelope across the table. Melissa’s name was scrawled in black Sharpie across the front of the big rectangular envelope.

  “What is it?”

  “Richard found this in Cecily’s office. It was at the bottom of a stack of papers and knitting in the big tote she carried to the office.

  “Is it something the police should see? Maybe I shouldn’t touch it.”

  “I’m going to call Trooper Taylor. But, hell, Richard opened it. I’ve touched it. I’ll just tell them that you looked at it, too.”

  Alexa’s curiosity won out over better judgment. She wiped her hands on her jeans before opening the flap to find a thumb drive and a piece of paper.

  “Remember I told you about Cecily asking for a thumb drive of all the pictures I took in Thailand? She needed to refresh her memory about something? Then, that day at the march in Washington, she wanted to tell me about something disturbing related to the pictures?”

  “Yeah. And you managed to get yourself arrested before she could give you any details.”

  “This note helps shed a little more light on the mystery.”

  Alexa read the note out loud.

  “Dear Melissa,

  Thank you for allowing me to review these photos. Several shots in particular helped confirm a terrible truth. About two weeks ago, during an event I attended in Washington, I found a young Thai girl with an important politician in suspicious and disturbing circumstances. I stumbled upon the scene by accident, and my glimpse of the incident was fleeting before I was whisked away.

  At first I thought I had misinterpreted what I had seen. Although I thought I recognized this young girl, I was sure she was safe with her family in Bangkok—that I must be wrong. Plus, a man whom I’ve trusted implicitly hosted the event. I was certain he would never condone the trafficking of young girls for sex.

  But, your photos have confirmed my worst fears. The girl is exactly who I thought she was that night at the Willard.

  I plan to fill you in during Saturday’s march. I know you will be distraught to find that this angel has fallen prey to a trafficking network. Her family must be out of their minds with worry. Next week, I’m planning to call a contact in the FBI to discuss this incident.

  In Christ,

  Cecily.”

  “What a fuck up I’ve been.” Melissa moaned. “If I hadn’t gotten arrested, Cecily would have told me everything. And maybe she would still be alive.”

  “Or, like I said before, maybe you’d be dead, too. Do you have any idea what girl she’s talking about?”

  “No. I took pictures of literally hundreds of young girls and women during the trip.”

  “What about this reception?”

  Melissa rose from the picnic table and began pacing. “No. No idea what reception Cecily attended. She was always going to dinners and receptions to raise funds for RESIST or to speak at events for charities with a similar cause. Sometimes she got awards. A lot of those were in Washington. I guess the police could get a copy of her schedule from Maria.”

  “Let’s go ask Maria now. Afterward, you should call Trooper Taylor about this note.”

  They found Maria in a second floor bedroom, taping boxes.

  “Whew, it’s hot in here.” Alexa tried to open a window but couldn’t get the old wooden frame to budge. She joined the conversation in time to hear Maria respond.

  “I would have to check my calendar at the office. But Cecily liked to manage her own schedule for the big events. She usually paid for all her own travel and made the arrangements.” Maria scrunched her face in concentration. “Earlier this summer, she went to Washington and Baltimore for a series of events. She got an award from the National Anti-Trafficking Network at some hotel in the Inner Harbor. On another trip, she went to a fundraiser in Washington—maybe for a rape crisis organization . . .” Her voice trailed off. “Or maybe for Children of Light? I can’t remember.”

&nbs
p; Maria set the tape dispenser on the floor beside her and scratched her head. “The Stilson Family Trust held a small dinner with some of RESIST’s heaviest contributors. And she met with some people who wanted her help on a documentary. Often, Cecily would sandwich in private lunches or dinners or even breakfasts with senators or congressmen or key staff people—anyone who could help RESIST and the cause. She worked hard when she was in the capital.”

  “Sounds like it,” Melissa agreed, but her tone held a hint of disappointment.

  “The state police may have some follow-up questions for you about this, Maria.”

  “No problem. Perhaps I have more information at the office. Of course, Cecily’s calendar would have all the details. She kept everything on her computer so she would have it on her smartphone.”

  Alexa’s heart sank as she remembered the damaged computer in Cecily’s office, steps away from her dead body. But perhaps the hard drive had not been compromised.

  Back outside, Alexa waited until Melissa had left a message for Trooper Taylor. She picked up her new dress and told her friend, “I’m out of here. Let me know what the police say. This felt like a breakthrough that could help them find Cecily’s killer.” Though, now, she wasn’t so sure.

  Chapter Thirty-two

  TWO COEDS IN THE CORNER carefully placed their coffee cups on the table and stopped chattering so they wouldn’t miss a single step of Tyrell Jenkins’ glide across the floor. Alexa rose to shake his hand.

  “Mr. Jenkins.”

  “Damn, Alexa. I thought we were past that. Please call me Tyrell.”

  Alexa smiled, ignoring his comment. “I’ve been away for a few weeks and was hoping for good news about Meg when I returned.”

  “No such luck. As far as the Bertolinos know, the police don’t have a lead. Personally, I think they’ve stopped looking. They always thought she was a runaway. Nothing has surfaced to refute that theory. I think they’ve all but closed the case.”

  “What about this guy they questioned about Cecily Townes’ murder? I heard he has a record as a sex offender.”

  “It was the state cops who nabbed that pervert, Boomer Kahn. Tell you how fucked up things can be. The Bertolinos actually had a flicker of hope when they heard that sicko had been arrested.” Tyrell sighed. “Hope that a suspected killer might have information about their girl. If he did, I doubt it would be good news. But I don’t think the Carlisle cops ever questioned him about Megan or Aurora. I hear he’s back out on the street now. In-suf-ficient ev-ee-dence.” He drew out the words in disdain. “Seems like the only time the cops have sufficient evidence is when a brother is the one in the handcuffs.”

  “So there is no news about Meg?”

  “No. Ed tells me that Toni sits alone in her room for hours. They won’t say it out loud, but I know they think she’s dead.”

  “I can’t imagine what they’re going through. The only thing I can do is reach out to Detective Miller once again. From what you’ve told me, I don’t expect to learn anything new. I’m sure he would inform the Bertolinos the minute he got any information about Meg’s disappearance.”

  “Thanks. He’ll be straight with you.”

  Alexa lifted her cup of chai and took a sip. The tea was still quite hot.

  Unbidden, the thought popped into her mind: Like Tyrell. Disgusted that she was acting like those two silly college girls in the corner, she straightened in her seat and pushed the thought away.

  “How are things at Children and Youth?” She searched for a neutral topic.

  “Nothing ever changes. Too many cases. Not enough money or staff. I hear there’s a move to try to privatize part of the foster care placement program. Children of Light is pushing for a bigger piece of the action.” Tyrell’s cup clinked as he plunked it onto his saucer. “That’s right. I hear they sweet-talked you into joining the Children of Light Board. What were you thinking?”

  “What’s your problem with Children of Light? Isn’t it one of the key agencies that you folks use for foster care and juvenile delinquency placements?”

  “There’s no doubt that we need their services. The non-profits don’t have enough capacity. But Children of Light doesn’t give jack shit about the kids. They’re in it for the almighty dollar.”

  “That’s not how I see it. It might be for-profit, but everyone on the board seems quite sincere in their dedication to the clients’ welfare.” Even to Alexa’s ears, her defense of Children of Light sounded a little priggish.

  “Girl, Jack Nash could sell snow to Eskimos. It sounds like you bought the snow and the igloo, too.”

  Even though Alexa was having some doubts about Jack Nash since her trip to Africa, her immediate instinct was to protest anything Tyrell said.

  “I agreed to serve on the board and intend to do a good job. Children of Light is about much more than Jack Nash.”

  “Right . . .”

  “If we’re finished here, I need to get back to the office.” Alexa gulped down her chai and picked up her purse.

  “Sure.” Tyrell leaned forward. “Hey, I hear there might be a new lead in Cecily’s murder. Something about a meeting in Washington.”

  Alexa was surprised that Tyrell knew about this. News sure traveled fast. “Where’d you hear this?”

  “The police questioned Maria about Cecily’s schedule.”

  Alexa refused to acknowledge that she was already aware of this lead. It appeared that Tyrell knew nothing about Cecily’s note to Melissa. “I hope this means the police are making progress.”

  “Me too.” Tyrell gestured to the barista for a refill. “I’m going to hang out here for a while. Thanks for meeting.”

  Alexa rose to her feet. “I’ll let you and the Bertolinos know if Detective Miller has any new insight on Meg.”

  As she walked out the door, Alexa speculated again about Tyrell Jenkins. Was his interest in Meg’s disappearance sincere, or was he involved? Striking that he also seemed to be on top of every move the police made in the Cecily Townes investigation. Tyrell was a complex guy. She wondered about all those unresolved issues simmering beneath his dazzling façade.

  “I understand you handled the note, so I need to interview you,” Trooper Taylor had said when he arranged the meeting. So Alexa was expecting him when the unmarked police car crested the hill. Scout woofed a few times but switched to wagging his tail when the state policeman stepped out of the vehicle.

  “Let’s sit on the deck,” Alexa called. “It’s too nice to be inside on an evening like this. Do you want a Coke or iced tea?”

  “A Coke sounds good. Do you mind if I take off my jacket?”

  Alexa laughed. “Why don’t you go all out and loosen the tie, too?” When she returned with two soft drinks, the trooper had settled into one of the deck chairs—jacket off, but tie still in place.

  “This place is so peaceful. It must be a great place to live.”

  “Obviously, I like it. Even home invasion and attempted murder couldn’t drive me away. Where do you live?” Alexa perched on a chair at the outdoor table so she could face the trooper. Scout immediately curled up by her feet.

  “One of those condos east of Carlisle. When I was first stationed here, I needed to find a place fast so I took what was available. Three years later, I’m still there. I guess inertia set in. At least it’s low maintenance. I work a lot of hours and don’t have much time for yard work.”

  “You said you’re from State College, right?”

  “Yeah, near State College. I went to college in Philadelphia at Penn. After I graduated from the State Police Academy, they stationed me in Wilkes-Barre. They transferred me here a few years later.” The trooper straightened in his seat. “But, I’m not here to share my life story. Like I said on the phone, I need to interview you about the note Melissa received. I hear that you handled both the envelope and the paper?” he asked with a disapproving look.

  “I know I shouldn’t have picked it up, but Melissa and I got carried away. It’s like a movie wh
ere the victim communicates from beyond the grave with a letter she left behind.”

  “Not quite like the movies. This note didn’t reveal the name of the murderer. It certainly points us in a new direction, but it’s not a smoking gun. Can you tell me where you touched the envelope and the letter, your involvement in questioning Maria Santiago, and anything else that is relevant?”

  Alexa walked through the entire discovery of the envelope and her handling of the documents. After answering several of the trooper’s follow-up questions, she frowned. “Melissa said that Richard found the envelope in a tote bag. I don’t remember seeing anything like that when I found Cecily’s body.”

  “It was there, stashed in the corner of the room. It looked like a bag of knitting, and we missed it when we searched the place. Big mistake.”

  “Have you figured out which meeting Cecily went to at the Willard? That’s a pretty high-end hotel.”

  “Yes. I’ve learned that it’s one of the premier hotels in our nation’s capital—a favorite of the political elite. Not my kind of place.” The trooper frowned. “I wish I could tell you that we’ve narrowed down the event Ms. Townes referenced in the note, but we’re not there yet. Apparently, the assistant didn’t keep Ms. Townes’ calendar for out-of-town events. Only the RESIST office meetings. Ms. Townes took care of all that herself. Strange setup, if you ask me.”

  John shrugged. “Since Ms. Townes’ hard drive was stolen the night she was killed, we don’t have her calendar. Her cell phone is missing, too. We’re trying to trace her meetings through the Willard, but they only track events booked through the hotel.

  “Ms. Townes attended two of those, but staff remember that she also took several meals in the Willard restaurant. Since there are no reservations in her name, we have to assume she dined with another party. But she could have walked in on her own, without a reservation. Not to mention they have afternoon tea and a cocktail lounge. It could take awhile to reconstruct those few days she spent in Washington.” The trooper sighed.