by Jada Ryker
Laithe narrowed his eyes in watchful suspicion.
“Two who love one another are estranged. Events, feelings, and emotions have kept them from reconciliation. I’m here to mend the two broken hearts.”
Marisa glanced back toward the kitchen. Punky and Princess?
As if she read Marisa’s thoughts, Diana’s lips quirked upward. “I’m here to help Marisa and Althea. You’re hurting. It’s time for healing.”
Alex rose from the couch with the grace of a jungle cat. He put his arm around Marisa. She leaned into his comforting warmth.
With the arrow gripped in her slim hand, Diana approached the love seat. “Mrs. Flaxton, you’ve learned the true meaning of honor.”
As Diana used the tip of her arrow to gently draw a heart on her green silk blouse, Mrs. Flaxton closed her eyes. “I learned about honor from my fictional character Winter and his family. I see an outline of the heart in pure white lines,” she said in wonder.
Diana turned to Marisa and traced the heart on her baggy t-shirt.
Marisa closed her eyes. “I see the outline of a heart in red lines. Alisa hurt me and my family decades ago, and Mosely in the recent past. I offered Alisa forgiveness.” She opened her eyes. “How can I withhold forgiveness from you, Althea?”
Althea rose from the loveseat, the folds of her green silk skirt falling below her knees. Her painfully thin body shook as she walked to Marisa. Her little catlike face was drawn in pain beneath the neat bun.
Alex’s arm fell from Marisa’s shoulders.
Marisa stepped toward her former teacher, her surrogate mother, and her friend. The frail arms reached up for her. The downy cheek met the younger one in an unbearably sweet nuzzle. Tears fell from Marisa’s eyes and mingled with Althea’s tears.
* * * * *
As the two women held each other, Clay pulled a snowy handkerchief from his pocket. He applied it to his eyes and nose. He sniffed.
Tara surreptitiously wiped her eyes with her pink shirt tail.
Alex pressed his fingers to his eyes.
Laithe meowed and shared a gaze of satisfaction with Diana.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Crashing noises from the kitchen caused Marisa to raise her head from Althea’s powder-scented shoulder. She gave Althea’s back a final pat. “I have to check the Montagues and Capulets for battle injuries.”
Marisa’s mouth fell open. The kitchen floor near the door was littered with suitcases, bags, and garment bags. A clear plastic bag held chew toys, a dog bed, and dog food. “What the hell is all of this?”
Berea squared her narrow shoulders under her tailored black jacket. “I need a safe place for my base of operations away from the reporters. I formally request sanctuary.”
“Let’s set aside for the moment your lies and your manipulations, punctuated by slaps with your pointer. Haven’t you noticed the front of the house is teeming with the media? Use your pot of gold to stay in a fancy hotel and hire bodyguards.”
Berea squirmed. “I don’t actually have the money in my hands. I have to wait until next week. In the meantime, I need to lay low. The media will leave once they don’t get anything. They’ll find more fertile fields to harvest.”
Burke Lee looked up from his tablet. He held up the device. “They seem to be harvesting a bumper crop right now.”
“Elizabeth Furlong!” Tara screeched.
Marisa took the tablet from Burke Lee. “Elizabeth is giving an interview in front of my house right now. I don’t believe it.” She squinted. “Dreamus and Officer…I think his first name is Josh…Landis are in the background.”
* * * * *
Elizabeth’s dark, asymmetrical hair swung at her jaw and her shoulder as she shook in agitation. “I saw the news reports with the media camped out on your street. I decided to offer my services as your spokesperson.” Her eyes were aquamarine pools against the dark skin of her exotic face. “For free.”
At the table, Fred surreptitiously tugged the bill of his hat over his face. He hunched his shoulders and pulled at his gray collar. He shoved The Library under the table.
Clara reached up behind her wide-brimmed white hat and tugged at a ribbon. A white gauzy veil fell into place over her features.
That’s right, Fred and Clara have met Elizabeth through their Prancing with the Stars operation. Good idea for them to hide their faces. It’s probably wasted on her, though. Given Elizabeth’s narcissistic focus on herself, she won’t even notice them. Marisa’s mouth thinned. “How did you get my address, Elizabeth?”
“Brandon Proctor is working at the hospital today, but he refused to tell me where you live. I don’t know why he wouldn’t cooperate. I found someone in the Payroll Department. I explained it was a life and death emergency, so he gave me the information. I drove here as quickly as I could. I knew you needed someone polished, savvy, and intelligent to be your face with the media.”
“Amazing.” Burke Lee was bent over his tablet.
Elizabeth’s perfect white teeth flashed and her chest swelled, filling her turquoise blue, form-fitting sweater. “Thank you.”
Burke Lee raised his head. His face was light milk chocolate against his white cotton candy hair. When Elizabeth wiggled closer to him, he snorted. “I meant this.” He held up the tablet. “I plugged Mayla’s picture into an aging program. This is a construct of what Mayla Kenton could look like today, using age-progression techniques. The photo looks a lot like you, Ms…Foreleg.”
“It’s Furlong.” Elizabeth’s eyes narrowed. “She has dark eyes. I have eyes the color of the Mediterranean Sea.”
Marisa’s chest squeezed. “I bet that’s the commercial shade of your contacts. You’re the same height, build, and coloring as Mayla.”
Elizabeth stared at the ring of intent faces. “Are you serious? I’m not even from here.” Her eyes fell on Diana. “What about her? She’s six feet tall, has dark hair, and her eyes are as dark as ebony!”
At the table, Fred and Clara gestured in excitement. Clay took Althea’s hand and spoke in her ear. Verna clutched Punky to her concave chest, her mouth near his perked ear.
Tara and Alex moved nearer the picture and exclaimed.
Berea Kenton slid into Elizabeth’s personal space. She leaned so near the younger woman’s face that her nose touched Elizabeth’s cheek.
Elizabeth backpedaled from the old woman. She threw up her hands and rolled her eyes. “What about Marisa? She has dark hair and eyes!” She edged toward the kitchen door.
Like a compass, Berea spun to Marisa.
“Don’t be ridiculous! I’m a half foot too short.” Marisa watched with relief as Elizabeth ran out the door.
Dreamus raised one hand. “Everyone, please just calm down. The aged photographs can be helpful in finding a missing person, but that’s not what we’re dealing with here.” He frowned at Burke Lee, who ducked his fluffy head in apology. “Mayla Kenton died in a fire twenty years ago. She didn’t disappear.”
A tear slid down Berea’s wrinkled cheek. “Her father would be so excited if Mayla were alive.”
“Mayla’s father? I thought you were a widow, Berea.” Althea’s clear voice filled the kitchen with her surprise.
“My husband and I are divorced. Everyone assumes I am a widow.”
“Where is Mr. Kenton now?”
“Larry is still rusticating at his resort. Years ago, he bought the failing resort for a pittance, and brought it back to its former glory. There are several tiny cabins, and a lake for fishing. It’s surrounded by ‘hills and hollers’, and he has quite a number of regulars who stay there and fish throughout the seasons, even winter. He has a store, and he sells odds and ends to the lodgers. He lives over the shop.”
Althea’s mouth curved. “It sounds lovely.”
Berea shivered. “After Mayla died, I couldn’t stay. It was too quiet and it gave me too much time to think. And with Mayla gone, Larry seemed even more cursed by his demons. I left.”
“Demons?”
Berea turned to Marisa. “Larry’s mother and father were uneducated country people. They lived in extreme poverty in a shack without running water or electricity. The wood stove provided warmth and served as a cook stove. The couple had eight children in quick succession. Larry weighed thirteen pounds when he was born, and the doctor said most of the weight was in the baby’s head.
“The marriage was not happy. Larry’s father Lonzo decided he’d had enough of a nagging wife and a boisterous herd of children. He had his wife Eva Katherine committed to a mental institution and his children placed in orphanages. Larry was only five years old.”
“Those poor little children.” Althea’s little catlike face crumpled in compassion.
“Larry’s childless Aunt Loretta and Uncle Jake wanted to take him into their home. Since I grew up in the same area, I knew them. They were a sweet and caring couple. But Lonzo refused. He was determined to keep Larry at the Saint Terence Orphanage.”
“I’ve heard rumors over the years about the place. Word is the nuns and priests were sexually and physically abusing boys and girls.” Althea’s hand flew to her mouth in shock. “Lonzo Kenton kept Larry from a good home and forced him to stay in that hellhole?”
“I believe Lonzo wanted to wipe out any thoughts or memories of his wife and children. He subsequently lived with another woman, and had several children with her. It had to be galling for the first set of children. They were all banished to various orphanages, while Lonzo seemed to cherish the second set of children. His live-in companion, Thelma, was cold and stoic, a terrible mother, and a sloppy housekeeper. Her redeeming quality seemed to be submissiveness. She did as she was told. Eva Katherine had defied him at every turn.”
Tara reached for Dreamus’ hand. “Lonzo sounds like a monster.” Her delicate chin quivered, and her nose reddened.
Dreamus raised his hand to meet her outstretched fingers. He glanced at Josh Landis, and his hand fell.
“Larry had a strange relationship with his father. Lonzo ended up old and alone and destitute. My husband built a new cabin on the lake. He moved his father into the cabin and took care of all of his needs.”
“I wouldn’t have been charitable enough to do all of that for a father who treated me like Lonzo treated Mr. Kenton.” Tara tucked her hand in the pocket of her pink shorts.
Mrs. Kenton sighed. “Larry seemed desperate for his father’s love and approval, while Lonzo rejoiced in dangling it just out of Larry’s reach.”
Fred growled. “He sounds like he was a terrible excuse for a father.”
Berea brightened. “He got his just reward. When Mayla was a little girl, Lonzo fell into the lake and drowned. His sins were cleansed.” The old woman’s face twisted in cunning. “It would mean a lot to Larry to see Mayla’s killer brought to justice after all of this time.” She smiled around at the group.
Fred pulled himself to his feet. He looked like a portly avenging angel. “Clara and I will help.”
Marisa glanced at Alex.
He rolled his eyes. “We’re in,” he grumped.
Althea raised her hand. “Clay and I will help.”
Punky barked. “We’ll help,” Verna translated.
Dreamus shook his head. “I don’t want amateur detectives in my way, even on a cold case. I can’t stop you, but I can warn you. If any of you get in my way, I will haul you to jail for obstruction of justice.”
* * * * *
Burke Lee looked up from his tablet. “Clay and Althea will interview half of the victims of the serial arsonist. Fred and Clara will take the other half. Marisa and Alex will interview the retired sheriff—” he glanced at his notes “—Sheriff Luke Creeter, whose son Knox is the current sheriff. Tara will accompany Lieutenant Camden and Officer Landis when they interview Larry Kenton.”
“I’ll be an official attaché.” Tara’s chest swelled.
The Floridian looked at Dreamus and his lips quirked into a smile. “Good idea to designate her as the ‘Community Liaison Intern’. It gives her participation a sanctioned flavor, yet it maintains her civilian status.”
Dreamus shook his head. “Don’t thank me, thank Landis. He did a web search and found the option. I’m sure I’ll live to regret it.”
Tara playfully pushed his shoulder. “No way will you regret bringing me on board to solve this case for you.”
Verna frowned. “What about me and Punky and Marisa’s mom? We didn’t get an assignment.”
All I need is Verna and Mom joining forces. Marisa rubbed her aching forehead.
Burke Lee turned to the old woman. “I need someone to transcribe all of the notes as soon as everyone finishes their interviews.”
Verna’s brows lowered as she turned to Barbara. “We want to get out in the trenches with the others.”
Burke Lee turned back to the group and his eyelid dropped in a slow wink. He pivoted to Verna. “I need a savvy and educated person to be responsible for the records. You’ll have the key job of the squad’s scribe. Barbara can help you with organizing the work.”
Punky wagged his tail and barked. Verna brightened. Barbara nodded. “We’ll do it.”
Diana raised her hand. “I’ll go with Marisa and Alex, if they don’t mind.”
Landis glanced at Diana, and then did a double take. His eyes narrowed in suspicion.
Diana gave the officer a professional smile. Her voice was pitched higher than usual when she asked, “Are you single, Officer Landis?”
His fair skin flushed, staining his face, neck, and the small, exposed V of his chest above his uniform shirt. “Yes, I am single.”
“A patio home would be perfect for you. With your career in law enforcement, you need a property that’s low maintenance.” She tugged a slim electronic notebook out of her huge shoulder bag. “Let me pull up some possibilities for you.”
Landis backed away as if Diana had cooties. “No, thank you, ma’am.”
Marisa glanced at Diana and raised her eyebrows. They shared a quiet laugh as they followed the others outside.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The warm autumn sunshine slanted across the orderly shelves of neat merchandise and glowed on the cedar floor. The golden rays turned Larry Kenton’s thick glasses to a brief flash of white as he turned the shop sign from ‘open’ to ‘closed’. The sun briefly caught his white tufts of thin hair, highlighting the white strands against his pink scalp and forehead. The lines at the corners of his eyes and mouth seemed to signal his willingness to see humor in most situations. The frown between his eyes reflected the seriousness of the current situation. “You’re working with Berea and that detective she hired with her lottery winnings to solve my daughter’s murder. Let’s talk in the back.”
Dreamus, Tara, and Officer Landis followed his round form, homily clad in a flannel shirt and jeans, through a fall of bright plastic beads and into a large office. A rectangular table dominated the middle of the room, with a cluttered desk and two visitor chairs to one side.
Berea said her ex-husband weighed thirteen pounds when he was born, Dreamus thought, with most of the weight in his head. He does have a large head, but it seems to fit him. It gives him a friendly, almost cartoon-like appearance.
The lieutenant deliberately snagged the chair at the head of the table. He placed his hands on the gleaming top. “Thank you for speaking with us.”
Landis sat and crossed his legs. He propped his phone on his leg, his fingers poised above the device. “I’ll take notes.”
Tara sat at the foot of the table, her curly hair glowing golden in the sunshine. The chair was low for her short body, and she looked like a child who’d joined the grownups for a conference.
Larry slid into the chair across from Landis. “You’re here to talk about my daughter.” He propped his elbows on the table and buried his face in his hands. He raised his head. “My greatest mistake in life was to allow Berea to spoil Mayla. My wife gave my daughter everything she ever wanted, without discipline or control. My perspective was colored
by my own childhood, which was filled with poverty, hunger, cold, and violence. I wanted Mayla to have the opposite of what I did.
“From my earliest memories, my parents’ tumultuous marriage was a whirlwind of ups and downs. The rise and pitch of their emotional whims and outbursts ruled the atmosphere of our home. Screaming followed petting, and insulting followed kissing. The two of them seemed stuck in their own pattern of marital disaster, etched in blood by a struggle for control and a stubborn refusal to submit.
“When company was in the house, my father was a different person. He was charming, with a wonderful sense of humor. People thought he was a great guy. Even as a child, though, I knew his eyes were cold and inhuman, even as he laughed and told jokes.
“Visitors to our shack were few and far between. Chaos reigned. Many times, goaded beyond endurance, my mother grabbed my father by the scruff of his shirt collar and the seat of his pants and sent him sailing over the front porch railing of our rickety house. She outweighed him by at least one hundred and fifty pounds and she was several inches taller. My father was incensed. He wanted to be the ruler of the household. He couldn’t use words or physical power to force her to bend to his will.
“And then the magic key fell into my father’s hand. My grandmother lived with her son Willie, who was rumored to be a pedophile. She may have found evidence of his perversions and threatened him with the law. Or he was tired of her living with him. For whatever reason, Willie obtained a signed court order, committing his mother to Western State Mental Hospital in Hopkinsville, Kentucky.”
“Was your grandmother mentally ill, Mr. Kenton?” Tara asked.
Larry’s face twisted in sorrow. “No, Miss Ross. She was a person trying to survive under challenging conditions with her sick son, but she wasn’t mentally ill. In those days, women were little more than property. Male heads of households could easily have ‘unruly’ women locked up in mental institutions on little more than their word.
“Armed with the knowledge that Willie had been able to get rid of his mother by having her admitted to a mental hospital, my father Lonzo doubled down on his campaign to force my mother, Eva Katherine, to submit to his authority. He threatened to have her ‘put away’ as if she were an old pair of shoes. As my mother had seen in the case of her own mother, it was an easy matter to have a woman committed to the state mental hospital. My mother was afraid.
