by Kathi Daley
“Perhaps,” George agreed. “But Sam Ringer, the man who wrote the 1969 article, made an argument that the reason the details in the short stories were so accurate was because Henry Post was the Strangler.”
“Seems risky to publish stories that detail murders you committed just a year after you ended the killing spree,” I pointed out.
“True. But in Ringer’s article, he suggested Henry was careful, and although he tried to track him down, he was never able to put a real name to the one the writer had used.”
“If he wrote twelve stories about twelve murders, was Frannie’s included? If it wasn’t, that could be a clue that she really wasn’t a Strangler victim,” I realized.
“I am trying to track down the stories themselves to see if Frannie’s is among them,” George confirmed. “The magazine that published them is out of business, but I am hoping I can find digital copies.”
“If Henry and the Strangler are in fact the same person, and Henry wrote the stories after the last death was discovered, it would mean he intentionally stopped killing and wasn’t killed or jailed on another charge,” Jack said. “Why would he?”
“Ringer believed the Strangler intended to kill twelve women all along. He suggested the pentagram the Strangler carved on the shoulders of his victims was proof of it. It seems the pentagram was modified in such a way that there were twelve points if you counted the ones directed both inward and outward from the center. It’s Ringer’s theory the Strangler had a predetermined plan, and when he finished his task, he decided to share his story with the world.”
“You’d think the feds would have been all over that,” I said.
“Maybe, but Henry did publish his stories in a small press, and back in the sixties we didn’t have the internet to spread things on a global scale the way we do now. I’m not sure Ringer’s theory holds water, but he made a good enough case that I am very interested in looking in to things a bit more.”
Jack got up when his name was called from the takeout window.
“It sounds like you might be on to something.” I stood up as well. “Let us know what you find.” I turned to Meg. “Oh, and I want to chat with you about an article I’m working on. Will you be at the museum tomorrow morning?”
“After ten.”
“I’ll stop by after my visit with Garrett.”
We picked up the pizza and headed to Jack’s house. It was still pouring, so he gave me a robe to slip into while he changed his clothes and tossed mine in the dryer. As soon as we were dry and warm, he opened a bottle of wine and we enjoyed the cheesy pie, which we’d ordered piled high with toppings.
“This is really nice,” I said as I listened to the rain hitting a nearby window while the reflection of the fire flickered on the glass. I was excited to help Jack decorate his home, though by this point a large part of me just wanted to relax and watch it rain.
“I need to dig out my Christmas CDs,” Jack said.
“You have Christmas CDs?” I had to admit I was surprised.
“I have a couple. I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but an old girlfriend brought them over and never came back for them after I told her I was going to Cabo rather than spending the holiday with her.”
“Ouch.”
Jack shrugged. “I guess I was a bit of a jerk back then, but that was the old me. New me wants nothing more than to spend the holiday with you.”
I tried to offer a sincere smile, although the thought of Jack with another woman wasn’t sitting well with me. Of course, I knew there were women in his past; a lot of them. I just preferred not to dwell on them if I could avoid it.
“What did you think about George’s serial-killer-turned-author theory?” I asked, changing the subject.
“I’d be amazed if it turned out to be true, but if it did, I guess it would confirm there were twelve and not thirteen victims. I suppose the only way to prove Frannie wasn’t killed by the Strangler would be to read the twelve stories to see if she’s included. Would you like more wine?”
I pushed my glass toward Jack in a gesture of acceptance. “It seems the storm is getting worse.”
“Maybe you should stay over tonight,” Jack suggested. “I can take you home in the morning.”
“I don’t have my things. Not even a toothbrush.”
“I have an extra toothbrush and a T-shirt you can sleep in,” Jack offered.
It was very cozy in his home and I had no desire to go back out into the storm, but that felt like a big step. Jack and I had never spent the whole night together, although he was planning to stay at the resort on Christmas. “I’ll need to call Clara to ask her to tuck Blackbeard in for the night, but I’m sure that won’t be a problem.”
Jack smiled. “It’s settled, then. I’ve been thinking you might want to bring some stuff over here. Stuff you can leave for nights like this, when you decide to stay.”
I nodded but didn’t reply. I felt as if I needed to think about that for a bit, but in the end, I suspected I’d do as Jack suggested. Once Garrett moved back to the house and was there to take care of Blackbeard, he wouldn’t be a consideration. I was sure Garrett would need a certain amount of help, so I’d have to see how things worked out.
“Your clothes should be dry. I’ll grab them and then we can begin draping lights.”
I had a feeling Jack had just given me the minute I needed, and for that I was grateful. I really was happy our relationship was maturing and progressing, but when it came to love I tended to be cautious. I liked to take baby steps along the way.
I grabbed my phone to call Clara. I noticed I had a missed call and a voicemail when I logged on. I clicked over to listen to the voicemail.
“Jillian, it’s Margo Bronson. I have an opportunity to discuss with you that I’m sure you’ll find too good to pass up….”
I listened as Margo explained that she had just taken over as managing director for the second-largest news magazine in the country and was on a mission to conquer the number-one spot. She’d done some housecleaning and had brought in some fresh talent. She wanted me on her team and was offering me not only a way back into my old life, but one with a considerable raise.
“Something wrong?” Jack asked when he returned to the room.
“No. I had a voicemail from an old friend.” I wasn’t sure why I didn’t elaborate, but I knew I needed to think about Margo’s offer before I brought Jack or anyone else into the mix. “I was just going to call Clara. If she can see to Blackbeard and you’ll take me home first thing in the morning, I’d like to stay.”
Jack’s grin and the very lengthy kiss that followed managed to chase all thoughts of job offers and a New York lifestyle out of my mind. At least until the following day, when the offer would become all that much more real.
Chapter 5
Wednesday, December 13
As soon as Jack dropped me off at the resort, I grabbed a quick shower, changed my clothes, and tried to work up the courage to return Margo’s call. A few months ago, I would have been over-the-moon happy to receive such an offer, but now? Now, I wasn’t quite as certain. The job Margo was offering really was a dream come true. I’d never managed to get any momentum going on the book I kept saying I was going to write, so in a way, my career as a journalist had morphed into a job as a glorified innkeeper.
Margo was offering me the chance to make my mark on the national scene. She was not only talking about giving me my old life back but an upgraded version of it. I didn’t see how I could turn her down, yet I found myself hesitating. At the least, I owed her a return call, so I dialed her number and waited.
“Jillian, how are you, dear?” Margo asked.
“I’m good. And wow: managing director. Congratulations.”
“Thank you, dear. I’m completely energized by this opportunity and, as you used to say, ready to conquer the world. From the moment I accepted the position I knew I needed to have you on my team. So, when can you start?”
I paused. “Your offer is a d
ream come true and you know I’d love to work with you again, but my life is a bit more complicated than when we last spoke. I have a resort to run and a brother who needs me. I guess what I’m trying to say is that while I’m very interested in your offer, I need some time to think it through before I make a decision.”
“You need to think it over? I thought you’d be thrilled.”
“I am thrilled, but as I said, things are complicated. Can I give you my answer next week?”
Margo didn’t answer right away. I suspected she was going to move on to someone else if I wasn’t willing to commit at that moment, but after a few seconds she agreed to let me get back to her on Monday. She said she really hoped I’d be able to start when they returned to work after Christmas break and asked me to give her offer the consideration it deserved, and I agreed to do so.
I loaded Blackbeard into his travel carrier for the trip to the assisted living facility where Garrett lived. What I’d really have preferred to do was take a long walk to think things through, but it was important for both bird and brother to have regular visits, so I tried to make sure they saw each other at least once a week.
“Captain Jack, Captain Jack,” Blackbeard said when we arrived.
“That is Captain Jack.” I watched as Jack kissed an older woman on the cheek and then headed in my direction. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here,” I said as he approached and kissed me too.
“I got a call from a friend after I dropped you off. We’re working on a project together and she wanted to discuss a few things with me.”
“A friend?”
“Valerie McCall. She’s a writer as well. Perhaps you’ve heard of her.”
I looked toward the woman, who was sitting in a chair on the outdoor patio with a throw over her legs. “That’s Valerie McCall? I love her books. I read every one of the books in her Pippy Porter PI series when I was a kid. I think those books made me fall in love with reading, which led to a love of writing.”
“You should tell her that. I’m sure it’ll make her day.”
“I will. Thanks.” I kissed Jack’s check and he continued toward the parking lot while I went on to the patio, where I’d arranged to meet Garrett, who hadn’t arrived yet.
“Ms. McCall,” I said as I walked up to her with Blackbeard on my shoulder.
“Oh, what a beautiful bird.”
“His name is Blackbeard. He belongs to my brother, Garrett.”
“You must be Jill.” She smiled. “I’ve heard so much about you from Jack and Garrett. It’s lovely to meet you.”
I placed Blackbeard on the perch I’d brought for him and sat down across from the woman, who looked a lot older than the photo on her book jackets. While the facility didn’t allow pets inside, they did have a nice patio and lawn where leashed pets were welcome. The patio was covered and provided outdoor heaters in the winter, so unless the island was experiencing a wind/rain event such as the one yesterday, it was usually a perfectly comfortable place to visit.
“I’m honored to meet you. I just told Jack that I read every single one of your Pippy Porter PI books when I was growing up. The books not only created a lifelong love of reading but an interest in investigation. I probably owe my entire life’s path to you.”
Her smile deepened. “It’s so good to hear that. I haven’t published for quite a few years now. At times, it’s hard to remember my work amounted to something.”
“Oh, it did. Your books are wonderful.” I glanced at the door leading inside and still didn’t see Garrett, so I continued the conversation. “How do you know Jack?”
“Our publisher introduced us a whole lotta years ago. Jack was working on his fourth or fifth book then, and he seemed to have hit a wall. My editor asked if I’d be willing to meet with one of their young writers and perhaps offer some counsel, and I agreed. Jack and I hit it off right away, even though he wasn’t yet twenty-five and I was already well into my fifties. I could see immediately that his main problem was the distractions in his life, so I offered him the use of the cabin I had here on Gull Island. I figured the only way he was going to get any work done was if he had a quiet writing retreat. He took me up on my offer and finished the book in record time. After that, he began to use the cabin to work on his novels during the times he felt he needed to escape from the world.”
“What a fantastic story. I had no idea Jack had been coming to the island for so long.”
“The cabin was destroyed more than a decade ago, but Jack had grown to love the area, so eventually, he bought the newspaper and the house he now lives in. I had a stroke eight years ago and decided to retire here. Colin and the others have been wonderful.”
“Man overboard, man overboard,” Blackbeard said, as he always did when he saw Garrett. I looked up as he wheeled himself out the door.
I turned back to Valerie. “I should go, but it was so nice to meet you.”
“It was nice to meet you as well, dear.”
As soon as Garrett got close enough, Blackbeard flew to him, landed on his shoulder, and gave him a kiss on the cheek.
“It’s good to see you,” Garrett said.
I followed Blackbeard’s lead and kissed Garrett on the cheek before taking a seat on a patio chair across from him. I noticed Valerie had gone in after Garrett came out.
“I’m sorry I’m late,” Garrett said. “I got tied up in physical therapy.”
“It’s not a problem. I had a lovely chat with Valerie McCall. I had no idea she lived here.”
“Has for years. She’s a very nice woman and a writer. I guess it should have occurred to me to introduce you.”
“I read her books when I was a child. I think she’s the reason I love investigating so much.”
“Then I’m glad my being late worked out.”
I smiled. “Before we get to talking about something else and I forget to confirm things, let’s talk about Christmas.”
“Ho, ho, ho,” Blackbeard said.
I grinned at the bird before I continued. “Brit’s in a play next week. We’re all planning to see it on Friday evening and I’d love it if you could come with us.”
“I’d like that. It’s been a while since I’ve been to the community theater, but I used to attend quite often. When will you pick me up?”
“Following the play, we’re having a writers’ retreat dinner before Alex takes off for the Bahamas, so I thought it would make the most sense for us to pick you up Thursday afternoon and get you settled in at the resort. That way you’ll be rested up for the play. Will that work for you?”
“I think that will be fine. I made arrangements to be away from here until January 2, although if things don’t go well for some reason, I can come back at any time.”
“Things are going to be fantastic,” I said firmly. “Jack has finished the renovations, including the modification to the shower and sink in your private bath. We even installed a cage for Blackbeard in your room so he can hang out with you. The doorways on the first floor have all been widened and the ramps into the house were already in place when you visited on Thanksgiving.” I paused. “I know this is a big step for you, but the resort is your home. There are a whole lot of people who love you and want to do whatever it takes to make sure you’re comfortable.”
“And I appreciate that. I’m doing better and can get around fairly well on my own, so I hope I won’t need a lot of assistance. I’ve even had some sessions using a walker. My therapist thinks I might be out of this wheelchair for good in a few months if I work hard and do my exercises every day.”
“That’s fantastic news.”
“I’m happy with my progress. Will it just be us for Christmas?”
“Actually, it will be us and Jack and Clara. Everyone else is leaving for a couple of days, but I suspect the four of us will have a wonderful Christmas Eve and Christmas Day.”
“I’m looking forward to it. I found Clara to be witty and interesting when I met her at Thanksgiving, and I’ve always liked Jack.”
“Clara, Vikki, and I are planning to decorate the resort. I know you have some decorations that used to be in the attic. I bought some too, but I wanted to know if there was anything specific you wanted to be sure we dug out.”
“Are you doing a tree?”
“Yes.”
“Then I’d love to see my grandmother’s Christmas angel on the top. It should be in the same box as the other decorations.”
“I’ll look for it this evening. Did you and your mother share any special traditions?”
“I’m not sure I’d call them traditions, but I have some fond memories. My mother was first and foremost a businesswoman. She owned and ran the resort, so her business was being a host. And she was a good one. Every year she’d hire a crew from town to come out to decorate the entire resort. It was magical. They strung lights in some of the smaller trees, and every cabin door had a bright green wreath with an even brighter red ribbon.”
“It sounds nice.”
“It was. Mom even hired a horse-drawn wagon to entertain the guests. They decorated that as well, and then took wagonloads of people on rides around the island. And there was caroling and hot cocoa to drink.”
I could just imagine the fun that must have been.
“And, of course, there was Christmas Eve dinner. The resort was always filled to capacity over Christmas. Mom worked a lot of hours, and although she hired help from town, I was usually handed off to a babysitter for most of the two-week holiday period. Still, on Christmas Eve Mom had a special dinner for all the guests. She hired men who moved out all the furniture from the rooms downstairs and then brought in a long table and covered it with bright red tablecloths. Invitations to Christmas Eve dinner at the resort was much sought after. We usually had the place booked a year in advance.”
“It really does sound magical,” I said. “And it does sound as if you did grow up with traditions.”
“Maybe. At the time I was mostly just irritated that I had to spend the whole Christmas holiday with a babysitter. But Mom and I did have Christmas together. After dinner on Christmas Eve she’d have the furniture brought back in and the two of us would put on Christmas carols on the hi-fi and open gifts. We’d watch an old movie on TV, then curl up on the sofa with a warm blanket. More often than not, Mom would be so exhausted she’d fall asleep there, so I’d curl up with her and we’d both be there all night. By the time breakfast rolled around the next morning, Mom would be busy again, but we did have those few hours together on Christmas Eve.”
