Murder in Madden

by Raegan Teller

  “She wanted to talk to me away from Molly. And she had some interesting things to say.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Rosie’s mother was in prison in Mississippi for killing Rosie’s father.”

  “You’re kidding. Well, that explains a few things. If it happened in another state and the family kept it quiet, the Madden paper wouldn’t have run anything on it.”

  “Rachel said Myra was forced to tell Rosie her mother wasn’t dead, but Rachel didn’t know, or wouldn’t tell me, who forced Myra.”

  “Is Wynona still alive?”

  “When I talked to Cade, he assumed Wynona was dead, especially since Fern never mentioned her and Myra was raising Rosie. But Rachel made it sound like Wynona was still incarcerated. If she is, she’ll be easy to find. I’ll call the prison and see what I can find out.”

  “What else did Rachel tell you?”

  “She confirmed Rosie and Ray were at least close friends, and I got the impression they were probably romantically involved.”

  Jack ate the last bite of one of the sweet rolls Cassie had brought them and then wiped his mouth with a napkin. “After I tried to question Ray, that’s when my article got shot down at the paper, and my editor told me to back off.”

  “We’ve got to talk with Ray. Does he still live in Madden?”

  Jack picked up another roll and nodded while he took a big bite of it. “These are delicious. I could eat a hundred.”

  Enid laughed. “I think Cassie made those just for you.”

  Jack ignored her comment. “Ray lives here and works for his uncle, Otto Jensen, at OJ Development.”

  “That’s the company you said had bought up a lot of the farms around here.” She jotted some notes in her pad, while Jack sipped tea to wash down the sweet roll.

  Jack pushed the plate of sweet rolls to the other side of the table. “I heard he was in Europe on some kind of business trip. He’s on some kind of state committee about effective land use. His trip will be in the Madden Gazette this week, I’m sure.” He laughed. “Amazing that a small weekly newspaper can survive these days. But it’s mostly local stories and events you can’t get anywhere else.”

  Enid made a note to find out if Ray had returned. She picked up one of the documents. “Is this the complete coroner’s report?”

  “Rosie’s murder is still an open file, so I only got what was public information. When I talked to the coroner, he confirmed Rosie had been strangled but wouldn’t give me the full autopsy report or any of his notes.”

  Enid looked through Jack’s handwritten notes to himself, scribbled in what looked like his personal version of shorthand. On one page he had written the name Myra Garrett and underlined it. From her conversations with Cade and Rachel, Enid knew Myra had raised Rosie after her mother went to prison and that Myra had died a few years after Rosie’s murder. Jack’s notes also included short interview notes from Chief Jensen and his son Ray. So far, she had not learned anything she didn’t already know.

  Enid picked up another piece of paper with the name Rachel Anderson written on it. Under her name, Jack had written “MA-NO.”

  Enid pointed to the notation. “What does that mean?”

  “That means I asked Molly Anderson if I could talk with Rachel and she said no.’”

  “After talking with Rachel last night, I can see why. I think she wanted to tell me more, but she was clearly scared to death her mother would find out. And when Chief Jensen walked in, I thought she was going to faint.”

  Jack sat back and looked at Enid before speaking. “To quote Yogi Berra, ‘This is starting to feel like deja vu all over again.’”

  “Why is that?”

  Jack shook his head. “It’s just that even after more than ten years, we keep running into the same brick walls. Just be careful, that’s all.”

  Enid held up the coroner’s report. “Not much in this.”

  “That’s all that is public knowledge.” He brushed some crumbs from the table and put them in his empty teacup. “Gotta go run meet with my CPA. Seems I need to diversify a bit more to secure my retirement fund.”

  Enid was helping Jack gather up the documents and put them back in the file when Cassie walked into the library carrying several shopping bags. “You two look busy. I don’t want to interrupt you.”

  “No, come on in. We were finishing up here.” Enid put the folder back in her tote bag.

  Jack and Cassie talked briefly and then he left. Enid turned to Cassie. “If you have time this afternoon, I’ll fill you in on the story I’m researching here in Madden.” Enid reached out and took Cassie’s hand. “You’ve been so kind to take me in while the inn is closed, and I feel like I’ve been secretive with you.”

  Cassie laughed. “Well, I was feeling a little left out, but my guests’ business is their affair, not mine. On the other hand, if you want to talk about your research, I’d love to hear about it.”

  “Good. I’d like to get your thoughts on a few things.”

  “Just give me about fifteen minutes to put these things up.” Cassie motioned toward the porch. “We’ll sit out there where there’s a nice breeze.”

  After Cassie left to put up her bags, Enid decided to look through some of the inn’s scrapbooks lined up on one of the bookshelves. Each of the leather binders had a date on the spine. She picked up the most recent date, which was last year, and flipped through the photos, a few news clippings about events at the inn. Apparently, the inn hosted an annual picnic by the lake for guests, former guests, and anyone in the town that wanted to attend. In plastic sleeve protectors were some handwritten notes from people telling Cassie how much they appreciated her hospitality and great service while staying at the inn.

  Enid looked at some of the photos again and recognized Chief Jensen and Molly. Jack was in several photos, talking with guests. Enid flipped through the previous year’s scrapbook and saw much of the same.

  As she was putting the binder back on the shelf, Cassie arrived with a tray full of sandwiches, a plate of deviled eggs, iced tea, and chocolate brownies.

  “How can you pull together a meal so quickly?” asked Enid.

  “When you run an inn, you have to be prepared to feed people, so I’m in the habit of keeping snacks cooked ahead for times like this.” Cassie spread a small tablecloth over the white wooden table and then set out the food. “Come on, let’s eat first and then we can talk. I can’t wait to hear what you’re up to.”

  CHAPTER 18

  A warm breeze was blowing off Glitter Lake, and Enid brushed a strand of hair from her eyes. Cassie listened as Enid told her about finding the newspaper clippings of Rosie’s murder at Fern’s house, and about how Fern and Cade had both asked her to forget about it.

  “So, are you telling me you’re here because they told you not to come here?” asked Cassie.

  Enid smiled. “It does sound that way, doesn’t it?”

  “That probably explains why I took an instant liking to you. I like women who can hold their own.” Cassie’s smile faded. “I used to be strong like that.”

  “You seem pretty strong to me, running this inn by yourself. That’s pretty impressive. But I’m not researching Rosie to spite my husband or mother-in-law. I’m here because of Rosie. There was something about her that tugged at me.”

  “What was it? Do you know?”

  “I think I identified with her, because my father died when I was young, and, like Rosie, I had no other close relatives other than my mother. And then she died. I felt so alone, even though I was married. When I read those stories, I couldn’t stop thinking about Rosie being dumped in the woods, dying alone. And then nothing being done about her murder. I needed to find out more about her.”

  “So you’re going to write about her?”

  “I think so, although I’m still not sure. I was looking for a good story, but I don’t want to upset Cade or Fern. I should walk away, but I can’t seem to turn my back on this story, or on Rosie.”

 
; “Well, for whatever reason, I’m glad you followed your instincts and didn’t let Cade and his mother bully you. You know, running an inn is easy, at least compared to living with your demons.” Cassie seemed lost in thought for a minute before speaking again. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to throw a bucket of water on the fire, but today is my son’s birthday, and I’ve been trying to hold it together all day.” Tears welled in her eyes. “He died ten years ago.”

  Enid reached out and put her hand on Cassie’s. “I’m so sorry. That must have broken your heart to bury a child. Do you have other children?”

  Cassie shook her head. “No, he was the only one. In fact, he was the last of my family.”

  Enid patted Cassie’s hand. “I don’t want to pry, but if you want to talk about him, I’d like to listen.”

  Cassie forced a smile and gently pulled her hand away. “Let’s talk about you first, and then I’ll show you a picture of my son Mark.”

  Enid sighed deeply. “My life is kind of mess right now. Cade and I are having problems, he’s lost his job, and I’ve probably lost mine, too.” Enid told Cassie about the bank’s acquisition by a larger bank and her job being eliminated.

  “What will you do? Can you get another job at the bank?”

  “That was the plan, but I think I blew my chances in the interview.” Memories of that day were still vivid, especially the look of disappointment on Jill’s face.

  “Well, we all have off days. I sure have my fair share of them,” said Cassie.

  Enid frowned. “I wish I could blame it on having a bad day. The truth is, I may have subconsciously botched it.”

  “Now, why would you do that?”

  Enid laughed. “You must think I’m crazy. First I tell you I’m pursuing a story my family asked me to drop, and then I tell you I want to lose my job at the same time my husband thinks he’s about to be fired.” Saying it out loud made her life seem even more of a mess.

  Cassie smiled. “And I thought I had problems.”

  “When I found those clippings about Rosie, I realized this story might be my way to get back into journalism, or at least into some kind of writing again, and redeem the career I abandoned.”

  “Why did you leave journalism if that was what you loved?”

  Enid told Cassie about her mother’s prolonged battle with cancer, and Enid’s decision to work at the bank. “Mother begged me not to take the bank job. She said I would resent her for it eventually.”

  “Did you?”

  “No. I resented the situation, but I owed it to her to make sure she got the best treatment available. She had a lot of expenses that weren’t covered by her insurance. One day she called me to her bedside and thanked me for all I had done. She made me promise to return to the work I loved when she was gone.” Enid pulled a tissue from her pocket and dabbed at her eyes.

  Cassie took Enid’s hand. “How long was that before she passed?”

  “She died the next day. That morning before I left for work, she was in good spirits, and she looked radiant. Her day nurse called a couple of hours later and told me Mother had passed away.” Enid wiped her eyes again. “It was so sudden. I thought she had more time.”

  Cassie patted Enid’s arm. “Your mother must have loved you very much.”

  Enid nodded and tried to push the nagging doubts surrounding her mother’s death from her mind. After the funeral, Enid tried to find the nurse to ask her a few questions about her mother’s death, but she had disappeared. Enid later discovered the nurse had left the country, fueling even more questions. “Yes, a mother’s love is very powerful.”

  Cassie leaned back in her chair. “So you’re going to keep your promise to your mother by writing this story.”

  Enid nodded.

  “Jack told me that being a journalist was like belonging to an exclusive club,” said Cassie. “Work was important to him, and he misses being part of something meaningful.”

  Enid tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear. “Jack’s right. I felt left out when my husband became an investigative reporter for the Associated Press. As much as I hate to admit it, I resented him for being able to do what I wanted to do.”

  Cassie smiled. “Honey, don’t beat yourself up. You’re not the first woman to resent her husband’s work. Or the first woman to put her career on hold to take care of someone else. That’s what we women do.” She paused. “Do you love your husband?”

  Caught off guard by the frank question, Enid hesitated. “I’ve loved Cade since we met at college.” She pulled at a loose string on her shirtsleeve. “It’s just that we’re growing apart, and I don’t know what to do about it. It seems we both want a change, but not the same thing anymore.”

  Cassie got up and walked over to the library bookcase where all the scrapbooks were lined up. She pulled one from the shelf and walked back to sit beside Enid. Cassie opened the binder and pointed to a young man standing at the edge of Glitter Lake.

  “That’s Mark, my son,” said Cassie. “He was seventeen when this was taken.” The same age that Rosie was when she was killed.

  Enid took the scrapbook from Cassie and looked at the photo. The handsome young man had light brown hair and a big smile. “What happened to him? Do you want to talk about it?”

  “There’s no easy way to lose a child, but when you lose one senselessly, it’s all the harder to bear.” The creases around Cassie’s eyes deepened.

  “Jack asked me if you had talked about your son, but he didn’t give me any details.”

  Cassie took the binder back from Enid and closed it, holding it to her chest. “Mark was killed in a drive-by shooting at the Exxon station at the edge of town while he was putting gas in the car.”

  Enid felt a knot in her stomach when she realized that’s where she and Rachel had met. Enid reached out and put her hand on Cassie’s arm, rubbing it gently. “I’m so sorry,” said Enid. “Did they catch the person who shot him?”

  “It was one of the bikers. He was shooting at a rival gang member from another town, and Mark was just in the way.”

  “So they got the person who shot him?”

  “Nothing ever came of the investigation. Our police chief has a way of looking the other way when he needs to protect his own interests. Besides, the guy who supposedly did the shooting later got killed himself.” She sighed. “I guess Mark’s killer will never be identified. Maybe justice was served, but it was on the street, but not by our police department.”

  “Jack hinted that the police chief might be taking payoffs from the gang. Do you really think that’s happening?”

  Cassie put the binder back in his place on the shelf. “I’m sure of it.” She sat back down beside Enid. “But I can’t prove it. And you won’t be able to prove they killed Rosie.”

  Enid felt lightheaded. “Are you . . .” She put her hand to her throat. “Are you saying the bikers killed Rosie? How do you know that?”

  Cassie frowned. “From what I understand, Rosie provided, well, let’s just say she exchanged favors with the gang to get drugs.”

  “Do you know that for a fact?”

  “No, I don’t know it for sure, but that was the talk around town after it happened. I had moved here from Virginia several years earlier, after inheriting the inn, so I didn’t know Rosie personally. But Molly Anderson, the lady you met at the police station, let it slip one day when we were talking. Please don’t tell her I mentioned it to you. Molly doesn’t usually talk about people like that.”

  Enid stood up and walked over the window to clear her head. “Did Jack tell you about my encounter with the bikers at the cemetery?”

  “I wondered if you planned on telling me about it,” said Cassie, making a stern face. “I warned you about going there.”

  “I know. I should have listened to you.”

  Enid’s cell phone vibrated in her pocket. She glanced at the screen. “It’s my boss at the bank.” She put her phone back in her pocket. “I’ll call her back later.”

  C
assie’s smile faded. “You’ve got to be careful. Maybe you should leave Madden and forget this one. Find yourself another story.”

  Enid was silent.

  “But you’re not going to give up on this story, are you?” asked Cassie.

  “I honestly don’t know.” Enid’s shoulder slumped. “Maybe all of you are right. Maybe I should let it drop.”

  Cassie put her hand on Enid’s arm. “I want to give you something.” Cassie walked over to the desk and unlocked the middle drawer with a key from her pocket. She pulled out a .38 Smith and Wesson revolver and handed it to Enid. “Here, I want you to keep this while you’re in town.”

  Enid pulled back instinctively. “No, I don’t like guns. And I don’t think that’s necessary.”

  Molly pointed the gun to the floor and held it out for Enid. “It’s not loaded.” She took a box of bullets from the drawer and handed it to Enid. “Here. Please take these too. I’ll feel much better. You don’t know this area and could wind up somewhere you’re not supposed to be. Jack can help you get comfortable with handling the gun.”

  “I’ve got a concealed weapon permit in North Carolina. Cade insisted I take lessons and learn to shoot, but I never learned to like guns.” She reached out and took the gun from Cassie. “If it’ll make you feel better, I’ll keep it while I’m here.”

  Cassie leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes briefly. “After my son was killed, Molly was like a mother hen, always there when I needed her. I mentioned to her that I had dreams that bikers broke into the inn to kill me, too. I was scared to death, so she gave me that gun and showed me how to use it. I carried it everywhere for a long time. And then, one day, I stopped being scared and got mad. When Jack told me about your encounter with the bikers, I got it out to give to you.” She smiled. “Yes, I’ll feel much better if you have it.”

  Enid leaned over and hugged Cassie’s shoulders. “I’m so sorry about Mark. Thanks for telling me about him. I promise I’ll be careful. And thanks again for loaning me the gun, although I’m sure I won’t need it.”