After being seated, Mike reminded the couple of the reason for the visit. He knew that Debbie had explained it to them earlier, but wanted to inform them again of their purpose.
“We think it’s so exciting someone is looking into that horrible murder,” Samuel gushed. “And, we’re so glad you came to see us.”
“Those poor, poor kids. Shirley and Joey,” Samantha said kindly.
“Shirley and Joey,” Samuel repeated.
The Sams shared a knowing look.
“Your names were given to us by someone who thought since you live so close to the Adams home you may have seen something the night when the murders occurred. Anything you can offer will be appreciated.” Mike didn’t want to come out and call them nosy as others had done. He looked over at the bay window as if maybe they had been sitting there that fateful night so long ago.
The Sams were congenial and talked with the detectives about the Teen Lovers murder case and the events of that time period. They shared information about their careers when they were librarians at the Senior High School.
Samantha confided to the detectives, “Children today aren’t like they were years ago.” She shook her head back and forth for emphasis.
“They paid more attention to their teachers then,” Samuel said.
“Walked, not ran in the halls,” Samantha said.
“The worst violations were chewing gum or talking in class,” Samuel said.
“Not like today,” they said together, shaking their heads from side to side.
“We volunteer now at the library. Helps us keep in touch,” Samantha said.
They discussed the successful 1954 football season, Shirley and Joey, Kenneth and Janet Adams, Janet’s suicide, and the latest fashions that had been offered at Kenneth Adams’s store. They identified various Danville business such as Jacob’s Confectionary, Cain’s Pharmacy, and the W. T. Grant store.
Neither of the Sams could remember anything specific happening that Friday, November 26, 1954, when the teens were found murdered.
Sheski and Mike tried asking the same questions different ways to stimulate their memories. Some things of their lives spent together in the home and neighborhood were not elusive to the couple, but specifics of that Friday were not recalled.
Eventually, Sheski decided to wind down the visit. He asked if he could take a look out the bay window before they left.
The couple generously agreed.
Sheski leaned onto a well-worn padded seat cushion and stared out the window. He looked up and down the street, scanning what the Sams see while perched closely together. Without a roof on the front porch, there was a clear view of just about anything that went on in the neighborhood. It actually became interesting for him watching people come and go from their homes.
“Fun, isn’t it?” Samuel said cheerfully behind him.
Samantha nodded.
“Yes, it is. I can see why you enjoy sitting here.”
“Samantha and I see so much that we could never remember everything that goes on.”
“I understand,” Sheski said. After all those years, how could I have expected this old couple to have memories of that one evening. What were we thinking?
“Yeppir. That’s why we’ve always taken notes,” Samuel said, nodding in agreement with himself.
Sheski’s and Mike’s heads turned sharply to Samuel.
“Yes, indeedy,” Samantha agreed behind him. “Journals. We write a little something down each day that we might have seen. Take turns. On special days we write more than others.”
Their heads turned sharply to Samantha.
Seeing their interest, Samuel nimbly walked to the bay window and gently nudged Sheski off the seat. “Excuse me.”
Samantha smiled graciously after him, then back at the detectives.
Samuel bent down to the window seat, lifted it up and removed the burgundy needlepoint cushion, placing it carefully on a nearby rocker. He lifted the top of the hinged wooden seat up and reached his hand inside. In his grasp were two journals enclosing legal-sized pads with yellow paper.
“This month’s notebook,” Samuel said proudly, holding a ledger clearly marked with the current month and date. “And that month’s notebook,” he said, referring to November, 1954.
“We keep a daily accounting of the happenings in our neighborhood,” Samantha said, innocent of its implications. “Best we can. You never know when it might come in handy. And on slow days, we read from past jottings and relive interesting moments.” She said all of this as if it was no effort to either of them to put pen to paper on a daily basis.
Samuel explained. “When that nice young lady on the phone explained to us why you wanted to come visit, I went to the attic and retrieved this one.” He proudly showed it to the partners.
Sheski doubted the neighbors had any idea how closely they were being monitored by this seemingly benign old couple. Just about anything could be written down in their writings, and probably was. Maybe even some things neighbors would rather had been kept private.
“Has anyone else seen this?” Mike asked. “I mean, does anyone know you do this?”
“To our knowledge, no one else knows we keep notes,” Samuel said. Smiling, he added, “At least we hope not. You won’t tell them, will you?” He looked concerned.
“Oh please,” Samantha said. “Don’t tell them.”
The Sams were reassured by the policemen their secret was safe.
“I want you to think real hard about these next questions, Samantha, Samuel,” Sheski said.
The Sams drew closer to the men.
“Did Chief Bill ever interview either of you two about the Teen Lovers murders, and did he or any other member of his police department ever read this journal?”
The question hung in the air for a second before the two Sams answered.
“Oh no,” they said in unison. “No,” they said.
Samantha said, “He never came around here. Wasn’t that strange? Never questioned any of the neighbors about this case, either. At least not that we ever saw. And we probably would’ve known. I mean, he could’ve, but we never heard he did.” The Sams’ faces were puckered up as if they couldn’t have imagined such an oversight.
“We wouldn’t have missed that opportunity if we’d been in charge,” Samuel said.
“We often thought we should’ve been policemen instead of librarians,” Samantha said. “You know. Like Sherlock Holmes or Charlie Chan. Something like that.”
Sheski assured the Sams they probably wouldn’t have missed anything had they been policemen instead of librarians.
“Could we borrow this journal for awhile? To read through your notations,” Mike asked.
Samuel said, “Sure you may. You must sign it out though, and it will be due back in two weeks. If you’re late, there’ll be a five-cents-a-day penalty.”
The detectives looked at the Sams with puzzled expressions.
They smiled back. “A librarian’s joke,” they both said, and laughed out loud, touching each other on the arm and pointing at their guests.
Chapter Thirteen
State Police barrack’s meeting room
Sheski and Mike briefed Paul and Pat on their day’s efforts.
Paul tapped a pencil on the desk while Sheski detailed the Sams’ story. Their narration went uninterrupted as the Captain mentally reviewed his strategies.
Pat did not respond to their report. She was still acting haughty toward Mike and Sheski because she worked with Paul on the governor’s timeline for their case, and they weren’t part of it. During their workday, she would occasionally remark about “her timeline” and how Harrisburg would be pleased with “her,” and how she should soon be hearing some good news from them.
Paul looked rough today. He felt as bad as he looked. Maybe worse. The antacids were no longer doing their job.
June was nagging him to go see a doctor and, unenthusiastically, he promised to show for the appointment she’d made for him toda
y.
He insisted on going alone.
Mike handed Paul the Sams’ ledger.
Paul opened the Sams’ legal pad, leafed through it and chuckled at the content and clarity of the writing. He closed it and touched the front cover. Clearly printed on a white sticker was a letter and some numbers. “The Dewey Decimal System,” he said aloud. “Just like the old libraries use to do. By God, they use the Dewey Decimal System for their personal writings. This is too much.” He half-smiled despite the grinding knife-like burning in the area above his belt. He touched the offending spot and willed it to leave him in peace. A wave of stabbing pain caused him to drop the Sams’ legal pad.
“Are you okay?” Sheski asked. He picked up the journal.
“Sure I am. Stop babying me. What else do you have for us?” Paul replied with false bravado. He took his hand from his painful midriff and waved away their concern. When he thought they weren’t looking, he touched it again. And again.
“I think that’s about it,” Sheski replied, looking to Mike. They’d already reported their interviews with Thelma and Kenneth.
Sheski and Mike informed Paul and Pat all they knew about John Deadly. It was a long and terrifying tale.
“Okay, how about you, Pat? What happened with your meeting with Bill Davis, Junior?” Paul leaned back in his chair, thick hands clasped behind his head, waiting for her report.
“Well, I had a difficult time getting to talk to him,” she began. “We played phone tag for awhile with me leaving messages on his answering machine and him leaving messages on mine. None of the times I suggested to meet suited him, and he didn’t offer any of his own. Finally, I was able to speak directly to him at the school where he volunteers. I went down there and after explaining the situation to the principal, I got the okay to speak to Mr. Davis during his break time.”
“How was he?” Paul asked. He pictured this upstart bullying her way into the school instead of practicing the usual state police professionalism.
“I wanted to avoid the hostile witness problem by making it as easy as I could, but he made it clear he didn’t want to talk to me at that time. Bill said to let him know when we could come to his home because he’d feel more comfortable speaking about it there. He did tell me that his father Chief Bill had passed away years ago. His mother had died, too.” She looked at her team and raised her eyebrows. “Guess we won’t be interviewing the Chief.”
Paul looked disgusted. He coughed a couple of times. “I wonder who else we’ll have to scratch off our list of interviews because they’re no longer with us. Good grief, they’ve dropped like flies.”
A loud knock was heard at the door.
Before Pat could get up to answer it, another two knocks reverberated. Pat opened the door and seeing Debbie she said, “Yes? You’re interrupting a briefing here.” Pat’s left hand was on her hip and she rested her weight against the open door, blocking Debbie from entering the room.
Unintimidated, Debbie ignored Pat’s remark and the person offering it. She deftly brushed her aside and addressed the group cheerily.
“Attorney Smithson just telephoned. He said to tell you he and Mr. Adams will meet you here in your office on Friday morning.” Debbie kept eye contact with Sheski and Mike, ignoring Pat. “Is there anything else I can do for you right now?” she said sweetly, still smiling.
They assured Debbie there was nothing else for her to do.
Pat closed the door loudly behind her when Debbie left.
The men frowned at Pat’s rude behavior, but got some enjoyment out of hearing Debbie laughing on the other side of the door in response to Pat’s bad manners.
The team members agreed to meet Thursday morning at 9:00 AM at the F.Q. Hartman Athletic Field in Danville..
“Mike, how about you stay awhile and help me go through this ledger?” Paul asked. “I have another appointment soon and will join you when I get back from that.”
He looked miserable.
Sheski quickly offered to fill in for Mike to read the Sams’ writings and take notes so his friend could pick up his family and visit their baby boy in the neonatal unit.
“Thanks, Sheski. Lillian and the girls are coming by in about an hour to pick me up so I’ll work on the ledger until then.”
Pat rolled her eyes and sighed heavily at the discussion of Mike’s personal life. She picked up some papers and began to do some reading.
Paul excused himself and with a pained expression, donned his topcoat. On his way out, he said goodbye to Debbie.
Debby was occupied with ignoring a drooling Doug Zimmerman, who’d signed in to do some paperwork.
“Don’t you have something to do?” Paul said sourly to the younger man. “Get moving.”
“Y-Y-Yes Sir. I do, Sir,” Doug said to his boss. Then, smiling back at the PCO, he went to his office.
“My goodness. Tell him to take a hike,” Paul said, half-disturbed, half good natured to Debbie. “He’s gonna hurt himself, expending all that testosterone.”
“I’ve tried, but you’re right. He’s becoming a nuisance. I’m just a man-magnet, that’s all,” Debbie said with a grin.
Paul rolled his eyes. This kind of behavior seems to be a problem around here, with more than just you. “Hey, by the way,” Paul inquired. “What’s between you and Pat? She sure is cold to you.”
“I’ve no idea, but what I hear through the grapevine is the behavior’s we see are nothing new for her. My sources tell me she has a track record of giving female co-workers the cold shoulder unless they can further her career. If they’ve got connections, she’s best friends with them. The men. Now that’s another story. She’s been known to always be friendly with them. Especially if they know someone important. Well, that’s what I’m hearing, anyway.”
Paul was interested. “What else does the grapevine tell you?”
Debbie seemed to always know what was going on and if she repeated it, Paul knew it was the truth. Debbie was reliable. She had his full attention.
“Pat came to us with a history, Paul. Her last assignment in Philadelphia was a bust. After she got herself in trouble there, her father had to use his influence to get her out of it. She got involved with some married man over there, broke up his marriage and then dumped him for someone else she thought had better connections. So they sent her to us to get her out of their hair and so she could have a new start. Nice of them, wasn’t it?” she said. “Where do you think we can send her? China? South America? Pago Pago? Wait, I know. Let’s send her to the moon.”
Paul didn’t answer. He just stared straight ahead.
“Paul?” she said, noticing he was deep in thought. “Are you okay?”
“Uh, nothing. Just keep this conversation between us for now, okay?”
“Sure.” What’s going on here? Harrisburg tekkies were here last week fiddling with some equipment. I get sent home early. Now this.
Chapter Fourteen
The detectives continued on course, working together in the meeting room.
“I’m going to my office to take care of some documentation.” Sheski said. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
Mike opened the Sams’ notebook. Their library sticker on it carefully noted the timeframe as starting with Monday, November 1, 1954, and ending with Tuesday, November 30, 1954. The notations were made in a Palmer Penmanship style that any schoolteacher would be proud to claim as the fruit of her tutelage. It was written neatly with a fountain pen despite the arrival of the ball point pen in the 1940’s.
He turned the introductory page over and began reading the remarks made on Monday, November 1. The weather and the witnessing of a loud disagreement on a nearby porch between two teenagers were documented. One of the neighbors had purchased a new car and it was painstakingly detailed in the notes, make, model, and color.
Tuesday, November 2, had more information:
9:00 PM - The sky is clear and the air is crisp tonight. Only two cars drove through our neighborhood since we sat down at t
he window. The first one belongs to Mr. Leppley from down the street. He really should get his muffler checked. The second car is a new Turquoise Oldsmobile owned by that nasty John Deadly. He dropped someone off in back of the Adams’ home and whoever it is, is in the alley, watching the Adams’ property. We think Deadly saw us at the window when he drove by, but we don’t care. He needs to know people are watching him just like he spies on others. This is not the first time we caught him at it. Deadly just joined his friend in watching the Adams’ home.
The anecdote went on to report the boys hung out near the alley for about a half-hour, smoking and whispering while they looked up at the Adams’ windows. In the margin, one of the Sams wrote a notation to remind them to tell Mr. Adams those two rough teenagers were nosily spying on his home.
Mike continued reading and taking notes. He was pleased there were few lengthy observations. Most of the days’ writings had just a few lines.
Years of practice had honed the Sams’ recording skills. They knew how to get the nugget of the observance down in a few sentences.
Mike was reading and writing intently, oblivious to what his co-worker was doing.
Pat remained in the back of the room at a small desk in the corner, reviewing newspaper articles and files on the murders. She took notes on the football field and Kenneth Adams, wanting to be prepared for the work ahead of them.
Mike knew she was behind him, but in an attempt to finish his efforts before Lillian arrived, kept his eyes on his work. He wanted to get as much of this assignment accomplished as he could tonight. Paul would expect a thorough briefing from him tomorrow.
He was so engaged in the recordings that he didn’t hear his wife enter the room. The next thing he knew, Lillian was saying, “Mike?”
“Lillian,” he answered happily, swiveling his chair around. He was as surprised as she was when he looked in the direction of her attention and saw his co-worker.
Pat had hiked her skirt up to mid-thigh and unbuttoned her blouse an extra button. She was slouched in her chair suggestively, providing an eyeful for anyone who cared to look. He recognized the scene could be incriminating but wasn’t taking the bait.
TEEN LOVERS: Murder Along the River Page 12
