“Told you,” Barbara whispered, when he was out of earshot. “Wish you’d have taken my bet.”
Next Morning - State Police Meeting Room
Paul sat at the head of the table reviewing the week’s schedule the three detectives had given him. He mumbled once or twice to himself in response to their plan, noting places where he wanted changes made.
“I have a few suggestions to make here,” he said to them without lifting his head from what he was reading.
The team sighed. Typical Paul.
“I think all of you should get out and check out the crime scene before the end of the week. Has anyone seen it yet?” He looked from Sheski to Mike to Pat.
Blank faces stared back.
“That’s what I thought. You should interview Kenneth, Shirley Adams’s father and Mrs. Temple right away. Neither of them are spring chickens and we don’t want the same thing to happen to those two witnesses that happened to Cal Kelly now, do we?”
Paul’d been unhappy when Cal passed away before his men had a chance to talk with him personally - a detective’s nightmare. “Then, before you see Bill Davis, Senior and Junior, you’ll need to have examined the murder scene so you’re prepared for their testimony. They don’t know this investigation’s been reopened, so they won’t be able to concoct a story before you get to them. I suggest you save the interviews of the sister Linda, and her friends for last. They younger and aren’t going anywhere. They probably won’t die on you like Cal did.” He pressed his right hand against his stomach and winced.
“Mike and I’ll be leaving soon for our appointments,” Sheski said. “We’re meeting Thelma Temple in an hour and want to review our notes first. After we talk with her, we’ll either be coming back here to process what we get or we’ll go to the high-rise apartment building to visit Kenneth Adams. That’s our plan.”
“I agree with Paul. We need to get down to the football field sometime soon and have a look around,” Pat said, glancing in Paul’s direction for support. “I was thinking maybe tomorrow morning.”
She was disappointed to see Sheski and Mike were still on the case. If Johnny doesn’t come through for me by tomorrow, his secrets will be out. He and I both know his drug connections in Haight Ashbury in the 1960’s secured the fortune he has now. And worse. People went missing and he was involved. He’ll wish he’d never heard of me if he doesn’t do something.
“She’s right,” Paul said. “You have a lot of ground to cover, so don’t let me hold you up any further.” He reached for the door, opened it, and then paused. “Sheski, I want to see you in my office before you leave.” A serious look crossed his face.
“I’ll be right in,” Sheski said.
“Do you need me, too?” Pat asked.
“No. If I’d wanted you I’d have said so,” Paul said. “Get back to work.”
“Just checking. I think we should meet at the field tomorrow morning and look it over. What do you two think?”
“Sounds good,” Sheski said. “I’m going to see what Paul wants and then I’ll come back for you, Mike. Then we’ll go see Mrs. Temple.”
Sheski put his sport coat on and left the room.
“How’s the wife and baby?” Pat said sweetly to Mike when they were alone.
“They’re fine.”
Pat moved closer to where he was seated, reviewing some notes.
Mike didn’t glance up, preferring to stay focused on the material in front of him. He moved some papers around and opened an envelope.
“What are you looking at?” she asked softly, bending over him to get a look.
“Just some background information on Thelma Temple. I see here she was employed by Kenneth Adams, and stayed on after he sold the store. She worked for the new owners until her retirement. She keeps to herself in town and lives alone now. Any ideas from a woman’s point of view on what we should ask her?” Mike said, eyes still riveted to the material on his desk.
Pat, suit jacket unbuttoned and exposing a revealing sleeveless top, leaned into Mike’s shoulder with her arm, touching him gently. Her warmth radiated across his neck and back and the musky fragrance of expensive perfume reached his nostrils.
Mike responded by pulling his chair in and putting space between the two of them. He turned his head toward her just as she was closing the gap of their bodies and her chin touched his cheek. He rose to his feet, knocking pages to the floor.
“Listen closely. You get away from me. I don’t know what you have in mind, but I told you before, I’m not interested. Hear me?” He tried to keep a civil tone as he moved back. Seeing the papers scattered near her feet, he chose to let them there. She can pick them up herself.
“Okay, Mike,” she said while walking toward him. “Don’t get excited. I wasn’t sure.” She pulled her jacket closed and buttoned it. “If you change your mind, just let me know. Or better yet, why don’t you just get off this case?” She bent down and picked up what had been dropped.
“That isn’t going to happen.” Mike walked to the other side of the table. “I’m telling you now, I don’t want to work like this. Just let me alone to do my job.” The vein in his right temple was throbbing. “I’ve enough problems without dealing with someone like you. And I’m staying on this case until it’s finished.”
Insulted, her voice rose a little as she replied, “Hey, no harm done. Okay?” She turned toward the door. “I’ve got a call in to Bill Davis, Jr.,” she said changing the subject. If he doesn’t call me by the time you two leave, I’m going to the school where he volunteers and see him in person.” She reached for her briefcase and coat. “We can meet back here later and discuss what we got.”
As she opened the door to leave the room, Sheski was reaching for the knob on the other side.
“What did Paul want?” she asked. She was hoping it had been a call from the governor to pull Sheski and Mike from the case. It serves them right for the way they treat me. And if Mike won’t play ball, connections or not, he’s of no use to me.
“Nothing, really. We just reviewed our time frames again.” Seeing the anger on Mike’s face, Sheski asked. “What’s going on here?”
“Nothing,” Pat replied. She gave them both a dirty look and headed down the hall.
‘What’s up?” Debbie asked, as Pat rushed past her desk.
Pat opened the door to the parking lot and slammed it behind her.
“Don’t mind her,” Sheski said to Debbie.
“I don’t. I’m used to it,” Debbie said. “She’s either trying to weasel information out of me or treating me like her servant. Or both. I guess I’m not up high enough on the food chain to be of importance to her.” She turned her attention to Mike. “Hey, Daddy, how’s the mommy and the new baby boy?”
“They’re great,” Mike said, glad to talk about something else. “Lillian should be coming home soon. Gregory is looking good. He dropped a couple ounces at first, but they tell me that’s normal. As soon as he starts to gain some weight we’ll be bringing him home. The girls can hardly wait. They’re going to be a big help. At least until he throws up on them and starts to smell bad.” Mike laughed. He was feeling a little better with Pat out of the building.
“I made this for you,” Debbie said, handing a package to Mike. “It’s supper for you and the girls. Nothing fancy. Stew and a dessert. I can’t have you starving. It won’t look good when you come to work.”
Mike thanked her. “Do you cook like this for Dennis?”
“Sure do. Whatever Dennis wants, Dennis gets,” Debbie said with a big grin. “That reminds me. Next time you see Doug, tell him how much Dennis and I mean to each other. He keeps mooning over me when he’s on duty. I’ve tried to let him down easy, but he doesn’t seem to take the hint.”
“Will do. That can be annoying,” Mike replied. He was thinking of his own predicament with Pat. “We’ll be in touch with you after our meeting with Thelma Temple. See if you can get us a firm time to meet with Samantha and Samuel West.”
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p; “I’ll call them now.”
“What was going on there between you and Pat when I walked in?” Sheski asked, when they were alone in the car. “And don’t you go telling me ‘nothing,’ like she did. Sparks were flying.”
“She came onto me again and it’s not my imagination. I can’t stand her. If this case wasn’t so interesting, I’d give it up.”
“She’d like that and I wouldn’t, so don’t do it,” Sheski said.
Mike recounted to Sheski the details of what had taken place.
“I’m documenting all of this and Paul’s going to hear about it again. He hasn’t done anything to stop it even thought he promised. I’m going to Friedman whether he likes it or not. As much as Paul wants to dictate our every move, he’s dropped the ball on this one. My patience has run out. Pat has contacts in Harrisburg and her father knows just about everyone of importance in the law enforcement field. I’m not taking any chances. She’s not the only one who knows people.”
“What do you mean? Who do you know?”
“No one really. Anyway, I’m sick of her.”
You know I’m behind you all the way, Mike. The problem is, she does this stuff when Paul’s not around.”
“She knows what she’s doing. Well, I do too, and I’m going to put an end to it.”
The partners switched topics to a discussion of their upcoming interviews of Mrs. Temple and Kenneth Adams. They went over their plans to meet Pat on Thursday morning at the football field to check out the crime scene. The men were in agreement they wouldn’t show Mrs. Temple the photograph of Shirley and the young man on the cot. If needed, they’d address it with her in the future.
Lana’s directions were precise and soon Thelma Temple’s run-down frame home was in view. A front porch with a single door supporting a transom window, faced the busy roadway. Up the side of the house, a weathered brick chimney and clapboards with peeling white paint added to the house’s impression of neglect.
Mike pulled the car off the road and parked in a dirt driveway coated with the ash refuse of a coal burning furnace. A nearby 1920’s-style garage was leaning precariously to the left, swing-out doors bent at odd angles like broken limbs.
Sheski stared. One more windstorm like last week and that garage will be kindling.
“This doesn’t look so good,” Mike said.
“She must not have much help,” Sheski replied.
The partners stepped up onto a cement slab and Mike knocked on the side door entrance.
After a few minutes and more raps on the door, eyelet curtains were pulled aside by aged fingers. An elderly woman peeked out. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, set an empty shot glass down, and cautiously opened the door a couple inches.
“Mrs. Thelma Temple?” Sheski inquired, displaying his badge. “I’m Lieutenant Thomas Sheski and this is Lieutenant Mike James.”
Mike pulled his badge out.
“Why, yes, I’m Mrs. Temple. And you’re the policeman who called me. You’re right on time. Please, come in.” Her voice was polite, the voice of one who waited on customers through the years and knew how to speak courteously to others. The small, stooped woman moved aside and opened the door. She looked the men over as the only persons to cross her threshold in more than two weeks stepped inside her home.
The house was clean and tidy, furnished with collectibles. Her home was not a showplace, but had antiques because this was the furniture Mrs. Temple had used all her life. A maple table with four wooden chairs occupied the center of the kitchen. Sheski and Mike found the plank bottoms to be surprisingly comfortable.
The men looked about the room. Near the wall of the kitchen, the reason for the chimney became evident. A Queen Beaver cook stove was burning wood and giving the room a cozy, homey feeling. Both men felt its warmth radiating toward them.
A washstand nearby held a framed picture of two posed youngsters, a boy and a girl seated side-by-side in a studio setting.
“My son and daughter,” Mrs. Temple said when she saw them looking at the picture. “Dwight and Annette, my son and daughter,” she repeated, softer.
They detected a note of sadness in her voice.
With a quizzical look, Thelma leaned back and waited. She’d been fretting about their visit after receiving the telephone call and wanted to get on with it.
“You said you wanted to talk about the Teen Lovers murder,” she said. “That was so long ago. I’m not sure what I can remember about that awful night. And I’m not sure why you’d want to talk to me.” Her voice belied the anxiety she felt at discussing life events of decades ago. Her gaze left them and wandered to the empty shot glass.
Sheski regretted having to show her the photograph and the line of questioning that would follow. He decided to follow their plan and let Mike take the lead. He gave a slight nod to his partner.
“Mrs. Temple,” Mike said. “The Teen Lovers murder case has been reopened because a witness came forth with new evidence.”
Thelma opened her mouth as if to speak, but said nothing. Pulling her shawl about her shoulders, she stood up and went to the cook stove. She reached behind it with shaking hands to adjust the draft in the stovepipe. Then, using a lifter to remove a lid off the stove surface, she gazed into the firebox. Satisfied with the embers, she replaced the lid to its resting place. She moved a teakettle from the back of the stove to the front. Hands and body trembling, she shuffled to the table and sat down.
Mike noted the tremors and felt bad about causing her such anxiety. She also seemed to want them to keep their distance from her and he wondered why.
“We have some questions to ask you,” Mike began. “I’m sorry to say, but this could be painful for you. We can take our time, Mrs. Temple.” Still soft-voiced, he had worked his magic.
Thelma began to visibly relax. “It’s okay. I know you have to do this. I’m just not sure how much help I can be. It was so long ago. Those poor families. It was such a tragedy. I knew Mr. And Mrs. Adams very well. I worked for him, you know. In ‘Kenneth’s,’ their dress shop. I worked in the same place right up until my retirement.”
She saw the investigators exchange brief knowing glances and tensed, but continued. “Shirley was the oldest daughter. She was a wonderful young lady.” Her eyes moistened and she put both hands in her lap, as if to hold them steady. “Always so full of life. And beautiful, like her mother. And Joey. He was a nice boy. I never understood who could do such violence to two nice young people like that. Everybody liked them.”
Sheski lowered his head. How many times have I heard that in a murder investigation?
She waited for them to continue.
Sheski reached into his coat pocket for an envelope. He pulled it out and placed it on the tablecloth in front of them.
Thelma’s eyes followed the envelope.
“Mrs. Temple, because of our investigation, this photograph recently came into our possession. I need to ask you about it. Please be honest with us. It could be important to our solving this case.” He opened the envelope and pulled a copy of the torn picture from its enclosure. He handed it across the table and said, “Have you ever seen this before?”
Mrs. Temple reached into her apron pocket and retrieved large plastic-framed eyeglasses. With some difficulty from her tremors, she placed them on her face, made adjustments, and turned the picture over. The tremors increased as recognition of the photo sunk in.
“My goodness, where’d you get this?” she asked, her voice cracking. She couldn’t take her eyes off the much younger, intimate couple, Kenneth Adams and herself.
“I can’t say right now. It’s part of our investigation,” Sheski replied. He felt bad about the discomfort the case was causing this frail woman, but he had to persevere. “Tell me about this, Mrs. Temple. That’s you in the photo isn’t it? And Kenneth Adams, Shirley’s father.” He pointed at the figures as he said their names.
“That was so long ago. Like another lifetime. I was widowed at a very young age. My husband died
in a hunting accident. I was lonely. Kenneth and his wife had been having problems for years. Something about Shirley, but he never elaborated. At least that’s what he told me. We worked together long hours and one thing led to another. He was handsome in those days and believe it or not, I was quite attractive then, myself.”
She winced as she caught a glimpse of her reflection in a mirror hanging above the washstand. Looking back was an old woman, barely resembling the smiling lover in the photo, sharing stolen moments with Kenneth Adams.
“I know that doesn’t make it right,” Thelma acknowledged. “And now that I look back on it, I’m not even sure what I ever saw in him. He was handsome and could be charming,” she said. She stared at the photograph. “But he also had a dark side. A bad temper. He was a revengeful man. That man knew how to get even. He bragged about making sure people got paid back for anything wrong they did to him. Once he made his mind up on something, you couldn’t change it. He fired more than one clerk in reprisal for something they may have said or done to him. He had a reputation for being a difficult boss. Because of his short fuse, most worked for him only until they could find another job. I managed to stay there mainly because of our relationship.” She sighed. “I paid a high price for our romance. I squandered those years with Kenneth when I could’ve been building a life with a man who wasn’t tied to a family - a man who loved me and would want to share his life openly with me. More importantly, my conscience has always bothered me because of our affair. I’m sorry I did that with a married man. His wife Janet was a nice woman. I always wondered if our relationship had something to do with her death.”
Thelma turned the picture face down on the table and pushed it shakily back to the detectives. She stood up and walked to the cook stove, the burden of emotional pain and remembrances of the past playing out on her wrinkled features. She again moved the stovepipe damper and fussed with the teakettle bubbling on a front burner, moving it to the back. “Would you like some tea or coffee?”
Both detectives declined.
Thelma pulled her shawl more tightly around her shoulders and sat down on the chair.
TEEN LOVERS: Murder Along the River Page 10
