Murder in Madden

by Raegan Teller

  Enid examined the last items from the box—two photographs. One showed a woman holding a small baby. The other was a photo of a man. His clothing and hair style dated the image to at least twenty years ago. He had dark hair and a boyish grin, with a cleft in his chin. He reminded Enid of John Travolta in a vintage costume.

  She turned the photos over. “Wynona and Rosie” was written on the first. On the second one someone had written “Frank” in pencil.

  Enid pushed her chair back and massaged her neck. She sat for a minute and then repacked the items in the box.

  Enid jumped at a knock on the library door.

  “Are you alright?” asked Cassie.

  “You startled me.”

  “I called out to you but you didn’t respond,” said Cassie.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you.”

  “You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” said Cassie.

  “I didn’t see a ghost, but I think she may be trying to talk to me.”

  “Who are you talking about?”

  Enid closed the box. “I may not be leaving right now after all. Would that be a problem for you? I don’t want to impose on your hospitality.”

  “No, of course not. You’re welcome to stay as long as you like.” The crease on Cassie’s forehead deepened. “But what are you going to tell Cade?”

  Enid stood up. “Honestly, I don’t know. Right now I need to talk with Jack.”

  Upstairs in her room, Enid punched Jack’s number into the cell phone. After the beep, she left him a message. “Jack, this is Enid. We need to talk. Call me as soon as you get this message.”

  CHAPTER 26

  A loud knock on Enid’s bedroom door pulled her from her thoughts. When she saw it was Jack, she motioned for him to come in. “Thanks for coming over. I thought we could talk here at the table by the window. Unless you’d rather go downstairs to the library.”

  “No, this is fine if it’s alright with you.” Jack handed the tote bag to her. “Here’s your bag.” He sat down and glanced out the window. “I never get tired of seeing this view.” He looked at Enid’s suitcases at the foot of the bed. “You taking off? Is that what this is all about?”

  Enid has not even noticed that Cassie had brought her bags back up to the room.

  “No. I mean, I was.” She sat down across from Jack and told him about Cade’s visit and her decision to leave. She then went to her bed and brought the box to the table. “This is what I want to talk to you about.”

  “Where’d you get it?” he asked.

  “Cassie found it on the front porch this morning as I was leaving.”

  “Any idea who left it?” he asked.

  “I have an idea, but I’m not positive. There’s only one person I know of who was close enough to Rosie to have her keepsake box.”

  Jack opened the box, and Enid watched silently as he examined the contents. Like Enid, he read the letter twice that was from Wynona to her daughter Rosie. “Damn,” he said softly. “Poor kid.”

  “We’ve got some work to do,” said Enid.

  “Whoa, there. I thought you promised Cade you were going with him to Montana to look for a house.”

  Enid stood up and paced across the room several times. “This changes everything,” she said.

  “How’s that? This doesn’t tell us anything about how or why Rosie got killed.”

  “No, but it helps explain why she became so rebellious. How could she trust anyone when they all lied to her about her mother being dead?” she asked. “Even her own mother was in on the scheme.”

  “But Wynona wrote that letter to Rosie trying to make things right. It’s too bad Myra never gave it to Rosie.”

  “Can I borrow this photo?” Jack was holding the picture of the man presumably named Frank. “I’d like to ask around, see if anyone knows him.”

  “Sure, but he could be just a family member or a friend.”

  “Or maybe he was Rosie’s father,” said Jack.

  Enid massaged the side of her neck and top of her shoulder trying to get the tension out. “Maybe.” Enid looked up and saw that Jack was staring at her. “What?”

  “I hate to see you throw away your marriage for the sake of a ten-year-old story that may not even have an ending.” He leaned back in his chair. “Are you sure this is what you want to do?”

  Enid put her hand on the box and stroked her hand across the top of it. “I won’t let Rosie down. She deserves better.” And this story isn’t to blame for my marriage failure.

  “Alright, then. It’s your decision.” He walked toward the door and then turned around. “Media Relations Specialist

  in Montana?” He shook his head. “What was Cade thinking?”

  After Jack left, Enid walked down to the lake and sat in one of the turquoise-painted Adirondack chairs by the edge of the water. She leaned back in the chair and let the sun shine on her face, listening to the water slapping gently against the shore. After a few minutes, she pulled her cell phone from her pocket and called Cade’s number, hoping he didn’t answer. A few rings later, she heard his familiar voice.

  “Hi, babe. Are you in Charlotte yet?”

  CHAPTER 27

  Searching for words she knew would be inadequate at best, Enid picked at a piece of peeling paint flaking off the arm of the chair by the lake. “No, I’m still in Madden.”

  “Why? Are you alright?”

  “Cade, I’m sorry, but I can’t go with you to Montana.” There was so much more that needed to be said, but Enid couldn’t bring herself to say it. Since her mother died, she had problems opening up to people. Keeping everything inside wasn’t healthy, but it protected her from more hurt. At least temporarily.

  Cade exhaled deeply into the phone. “I’m not sure what to say. I thought we agreed. I wanted you to help me look for a house.” He paused briefly. “A home. For us.”

  “I need to stay.” Enid couldn’t get the rest of her words to come out.

  “Why did you change your mind?” he asked.

  Enid watched a weathered plastic soda bottle bobbing in the water like a miniature ship in a storm. “I need to stay here. For a while anyway.” She watched the soda bottle drifting further out into the lake. Enid listened to Cade’s breathing as the bottle disappeared from sight. “I’m sorry. I know you’re disappointed in me.”

  “You think I’m disappointed? Is that all you think this is? A minor disappointment?” His tone was sharp.

  “No, that’s not what I meant.” Enid stopped to consider her words. “I love you, but I don’t want to live in Montana. And no matter how foolish you think I am, this story is important to me. Rosie has become important to me, and I want to finish it.”

  Cade cleared his throat and coughed slightly, something he did when he was upset. “I guess there’s nothing else to say then, is there?”

  “You can’t just expect me to drop my life and follow you to a place we’ve never thought of living, where you will be doing a job that you’re probably going to hate pretty quickly.” She sighed “And then what do we do?”

  “Ah, so that’s what this is. You don’t have any confidence in me making this change.”

  Enid looked over the water and saw the bottle bobbing its way back toward her. “As much as I hate to say this, I think you need to figure out what you really want before you drag me along with you.”

  “This is not about me trying to figure out my life. The company is a hundred years old, very reputable. One of my college friends is a senior officer there, and he offered me this chance to build a new career. But what about you? Do you know what the hell you want?” He coughed again. “This is about your willingness to throw away our life together to chase something, but I’m not sure what.”

  Enid remained silent, stung by his words. He was right, at least partially. In the beginning, Rosie’s story was about breaking away from the bank and fulfilling the promise to return to writing. She could have chosen another story if she had really wanted to save her marriage. Bu
t somewhere along with way, Rosie had become more than just another story to her. Am I choosing Rosie over Cade?

  “Look, I’ve got to go. I love you, and I’m sorry that . . . I wish things were different. Just be careful down there.”

  After Cade hung up, Enid stared out over the lake, trying to decide how she should feel. Angry? Relieved? Most of all, she felt responsible. And empty. She had traded her marriage for a dead girl’s story that no one else seemed to care about.

  When her cell phone rang again, she assumed it was Cade calling back, but a glance at the screen told her it was Jill, her boss at the bank. Enid considered letting the call go to voice mail. She had been intending to call the office but had put it off. Now she was embarrassed for not checking in sooner.

  “Hi, Jill, how are you?” She forced herself to be cheerful. For the next few minutes, she listened to Jill talk about the bank merger and all the employee changes that had taken place. Her last comment was what Enid had been dreading, yet expecting, to hear. The new position was given to someone else.

  “What does that mean, exactly? For me, I mean.” Enid knew the answer wasn’t going to be good, and it wasn’t. “Of course, I understand. Thanks for letting me know.” Enid tried to focus on the conversation, but she just wanted to hang up. “Yes, let’s keep in touch. Drinks after work would be nice. Thanks for calling.” She ended the call feeling numb. Her job had been eliminated and there was nothing else available for her at the bank. The words from the song “Bobbie McGee” popped into her head. “Freedom’s just another word for nothing left to lose.”

  Enid stared out over the water and tried to get her thoughts together. First Cade, now her job. Suddenly, she felt foolish for chasing a pipe dream and trying to revive her journalism career. Mentally, she began calculating the amount of their savings and how long it would last. Not long, especially now that they would have two households. Or a divorce. She needed to talk finances with Cade, but not today.

  She leaned her head back and shut her eyes to block out the world, when Cassie’s voice quickly brought her back to attention.

  “Enid?” Cassie called out as she walked down to the beach area where Enid was sitting. “I just wanted to make sure you’re alright.”

  “I’m fine. I just came out here to clear my head. Sorry, I didn’t hear you.”

  “There’s a storm coming. Don’t stay out too long.”

  “I’ll be in shortly.”

  Cassie started to say something but hesitated. Instead, she walked up the path toward the inn. Enid glanced up at the sky. Dark clouds were moving toward the lake. The bobbing bottle had disappeared completely and small whitecaps were forming on the water. Flash lightning lit up the sky, not in a streak but in an all-over flash, as though someone were trying to take a photo of the whole world with a giant camera. Shortly afterward, a rumble of deep thunder shook the earth.

  How many times had she sat with her mother during a storm when her mother counted the seconds between the lightning and the thunder? Each time, her mother would tell her that the sound of thunder traveled about a mile in five seconds. Together, they would count right after the lightning flash. One one-thousand, two one-thousand, three one-thousand, until they heard the thunder. Not missing an opportunity to make the weather a math lesson, as well as a science one, her mother would ask Enid to calculate how far away the storm was from them. Enid smiled as she remembered her mother’s praise after Enid proudly announced that fifteen seconds between the lightning and the thunder meant the lightning was three miles away.

  The sky lit up again and Enid counted five seconds before the earth shook again. The storm was getting closer and heavy drops of rain began to fall. Enid got up quickly and walked back to the inn, thankful the rain had washed the tears from her face.

  CHAPTER 28

  The next morning while Enid was having breakfast in the library, Jack walked in. “Cassie told me you were in here.” He reached over and pinched off the end of a croissant. “Um, that’s good.” He licked his fingers and then sat down at the small table. “We need to find out who Frank is.”

  Enid wiped her mouth with the napkin from her lap. “And just how to do you propose we do that?” She laughed. “Wait, let me guess. You have a contact that can help us.”

  Jack grinned. “Something like that. You look tired. Everything okay?”

  Enid sighed. “Not really, but I don’t want to talk about it. Not now, anyway.”

  Jack cocked his head and smiled slightly, putting his hand on top of hers. “When you’re ready, I can listen pretty good.”

  “Thanks.” Even though she appreciated the offer, Enid pulled her hand away and focused on the task at hand. “So who and where is this contact of yours?”

  Jack stood up. “At the paper. She’s a gal who’s been there forever. Knows everybody and everything worth knowing.” Jack pushed his chair under the table. “You up for it? I can go myself, or we can wait ‘til later.”

  Enid put her napkin on the table and stood up. “No, getting out will be good. Just let me run upstairs and get my things.”

  * * *

  “You smell that?” Jack walked into the Madden Gazette and inhaled deeply. “That’s what heaven must smell like.”

  “You mean newsprint and printing press lubricant?”

  Jack made a face at Enid and walked up to the counter. Slamming his palm on the top of the bell sitting there, he called out, “Hello, anybody here?”

  A young woman walked down the hall. “Can I help you?” She chewed vigorously on a wad of gum as she stared at Jack. “I know you.” She walked over and pointed to one of the photos on the wall. “That’s you, isn’t it?”

  Enid walked over to the photo and looked at the caption beneath it: “Awarded to Jack Johnson for Excellence in Journalism." A younger Jack in the photo was smiling broadly and holding a large plaque in one hand and shaking hands with an older man.

  Jack cleared his throat. “Yep, I’m the guilty party. Got that when I worked at the Tribune in Chicago, but my editor here wanted to show it off, so I let him.” He hung his head. “I had forgotten that thing was still hanging up there.”

  “They still talk about you, you know.” She grinned. “You must have been a hoot back then.”

  Jack looked at the photo. “Yep. Back then, I was definitely a hoot. Is Helen here today?”

  “Yeah. She’s always here. You want her?” She popped her chewing gum.

  “That would be nice.” Jack walked toward the hallway and motioned for Enid to follow him. “Alright if we wait in the conference room down the hall?”

  The girl shrugged. “No problem.”

  * * *

  The real-life Helen was nothing like the image Enid had envisioned from Jack’s comments. Enid was certain Helen would be a plump, old woman with gray hair. Instead, the woman who walked into the conference room was tall and elegant, with dark brown hair, just slightly tinged with grey. She swept into the room as gracefully as a swan.

  “Jack, darling, how are you? And where have you been?” The woman hugged Jack and then turned to Enid. “Hello, my dear, I’m Helen. And who are you?”

  Enid introduced herself and then the three of them sat down at an old wooden conference table that had seen better days. Jack and Helen reminisced about old times for a few minutes. Jack appeared to be enjoying it, so Enid just let them talk until they ran out of steam.

  “As much fun as this is, I doubt you came by just to chat.” Helen was a woman who clearly liked to be in control. She turned to Enid. “So how can I help you?”

  “We’re hoping you know who this man is.” Enid slid the photo across the table in front of Helen. “Apparently, his name is Frank.”

  Helen put on the reading glasses that were hanging around her neck on a chain with amethyst stones in it. “Frank, huh?” She stared at the photo. “I may have seen him.” She looked at it again. “Well, no, I’m not sure. I don’t think he lives in Madden.”

  “So you don’t know who he
is?” asked Enid.

  Helen took off her glasses. “If you’ll let me copy that photo, maybe it’ll come back to me. I’ll also ask around.”

  “Thanks, we’d appreciate that,” said Enid.

  When Helen returned from the copier, she slid the photo across the table to Enid. “Why do you want to know who this man is?”

  Enid placed the photo in the folder. “That’s a fair question.” She told Helen about Rosie’s murder and box of mementos left at the inn. “They told Rosie her mother had died, but she was in prison for killing Rosie’s father. Rosie was about two when her mother was incarcerated in Mississippi. That’s when Rosie came to Madden to live with Myra. When Rosie was sixteen, she discovered a letter her mother had written her from prison. That’s when she realized her mother was alive, at least at that time. Rosie was saving money to go to Mississippi to see her mother when Rosie was killed.”

  Helen shook her head. “Poor kid. No wonder she had problems. I thought Rosie was an orphan when she came to Madden. I heard that her mother had lived in Madden but moved away before Rosie was born. No one here knew about Rosie until she came to Madden to live with Myra.”

  “I hate to admit it, but I didn’t dig too deep on Rosie’s father before the story got shut down,” said Jack. “He had been dead almost seventeen years by the time Rosie was killed. Several people made vague references to her father being from another state. I accepted the story that Rosie’s mother was dead. I had no idea she was in prison for killing Rosie’s father.” He paused. “Damn.”

  “Don’t beat yourself up. I know you got pulled off the story rather abruptly,” said Helen. She turned to Enid. “I can tell this story is important to you. Where do you plan to sell it?”

  “I really hadn’t thought about it. I’ve been out of journalism a while, and I’ve lost most of my contacts.”