Death in the Park

by London Lovett

  Marylou shrugged. "Just adding in details, Rita." Marylou smiled at me. "Details are important to any good story. Isn't that right, Sunni?"

  "Yes. Pertinent details," I added. It suddenly dawned on me that my article was going to be void of anything interesting or important. Marylou's smile faded some, so I quickly added to my response. "A lawyer and a big city one at that. You must be very proud, Marylou."

  Her smile returned and a rosy blush filled her cheeks. "I am." She picked up her quilt square but before putting her needle through she straightened in her chair. "Oh, I've just thought of something very nice to add to your story. At least I think it's nice. Somewhat romantic, in fact."

  The word 'romantic' helped Marylou grab everyone's immediate attention. Needles stopped piercing fabric, and a hush dropped in the room as her friends waited for her to continue.

  Marylou, obviously pleased to have all eyes on her, straightened her posture even more. "Well, my sister Annabel buys her special hand cream from a little store in Hickory Flats, and the store is run by Doris Nielson, Alder's neighbor these past forty years. And Doris told Annabel that Pauline—" She paused and her smile dropped to a frown. "Pauline is Alder's late wife."

  Esther clucked her tongue. "Poor thing caught a bad cold, and it went straight to her lungs."

  "Yes, it was such a tragedy," Marylou interjected quickly, not wanting to be upstaged in her story. I was holding out hope that her long, convoluted tale would have an intriguing ending, but something told me I was going to be disappointed.

  "Anyhow, Pauline who occasionally had coffee with Doris used to say that Alder had promised to build her a castle one day. He was so fond of Pauline. Poor man. He was devastated when she died. They were childless. Not by choice. It just never happened for them."

  I dashed off some shorthand notes. "When did she die?"

  "Two years ago just after the Fourth of July," Rita added. "They had purchased one of those long, shiny trailers. They had big plans to travel once Alder retired. I don't know what he's going to do now."

  "Why did he decide to retire?" It was the next logical question, but the women simultaneously pulled in breaths and fell instantly silent. They flashed each other those kinds of secret looks only a close group of friends could understand. Apparently I'd stepped on a hot button.

  Already having decided that Marylou was the most likely to let something slip, I looked straight at her. She briefly pretended to be focused on her quilt square, but the way she pulled in her lips, suggested she was trying to stop herself from talking.

  I reminded myself I was a professional journalist and not there to listen to sweet stories about their muffin recipes or the latest fabric sale at the yardage store. If I couldn't pry a few town secrets loose from four adorable quilters, then I might as well hang up my press badge.

  "So Alder's retirement wasn't voluntary?"

  The women exchanged glances again, and somehow, during the wordless exchange, they unanimously appointed Rita to be spokesperson. It was adorable to think that they'd been friends for so long they could have full conversations with just their facial expressions.

  Rita tucked the point of her needle into the fabric and placed her hands primly in her lap. "Of course we don't know all of the details," she laughed weakly. "We're just a group of old women who like to sew, but rumor has it, Principal Morely asked Alder to retire." She picked up the needle and continued her work.

  My wide-eyed blink circled the table. "I see?" I made sure to add a questioning tone, hoping one of them would pick up that I was confused. Marylou caught on first. I knew I liked her the best.

  "It seems there was an incident of a sordid nature that took place." She paused long enough for me to once again feel disappointed at the cryptic answers I was getting.

  "Sordid nature?" I asked.

  Susie shook her head, nearly dislodging the bun of hair held up by clips. "Mary, you over-exaggerate. Sordid is a frightful sounding word." After properly chastising her friend's use of vocabulary, Susie turned to me with a gentle grin. "Distasteful is a much better word." She motioned to my laptop, apparently letting me know I should type her new word.

  "What distasteful thing did Mr. Stevens do that caused the principal to force retirement?"

  I waited with bated breath and fingers poised over the keyboard, but the only sounds that followed were the loud ticking of Marylou's mantel clock in the next room and the birds twittering on the bird feeder outside the front window.

  "Can you give me a hint?" I asked, optimistically.

  Marylou relaxed her posture with a soft shouldered shrug. "We don't know."

  "You don't know or you can't say?"

  "We don't know. All we know is that he was asked to retire and that there was some incident at the school that prompted it. Would anyone like some tea?" Marylou stood. "Sunni, would you like some tea? I've got a raspberry blend that is simply delicious."

  And that was that. My first assignment and my first interviews, and I was walking out with nothing more than a debate about which word was less frightful, sordid or distasteful.

  I closed the lid on the laptop. "No thank you, Marylou. I need to get going. Thank you all very much for sharing your morning with me. And your tasty treats." I packed away my laptop and stood up.

  "We can't wait to read the story in the paper," Marylou said enthusiastically as she led me to the door.

  Chapter 6

  After the disastrously unproductive morning, I went back to the newspaper office. Fortunately, only Myrna was in and she was so busy on calls with advertisers she didn't have time to ask me about my morning. I spent a good hour on the Smithville High School website. I even scoured the district website, but there was hardly any mention of Alder Stevens except a note about his retirement.

  I was feeling pretty low until Raine texted and asked me to meet her at Layers for lunch. Layers was a fun and yummy breakfast and lunch restaurant that had already soared to the top of my favorite food places list. Layers was just a five minute walk along Edgewood Drive from the newspaper office.

  Raine's gold bangle bracelets glittered in the front window of the restaurant as she waved to me. The restaurant was a tiny white building with wood siding, a tin roof and a large forest green awning. Two cherry red front doors were sandwiched between two large picture windows on the front of the building. A row of cherry red picnic benches had been placed along the side of the building. The entire restaurant, outside seating area and all, was shaded by three enormous tulip poplars. The trees’ thick green foliage was still dotted with a few diehard golden flowers leftover from spring. The building was bathed in a cool, nectar scented shadow that only made me like the place more.

  "Over here, Sunni," Raine called as I stepped inside.

  "She's been waiting for you," the owner, Ballard Winter, quipped as she walked past me with a tray of iced teas. Ballard was a thirty something wife and mother of two toddlers. Today she had her short tawny hair clipped up with two rhinestone butterfly clips. She seemed to have quite a collection of rhinestone clips, and they were all in the shape of insects. I was especially intrigued by the dragonfly ones she wore on my last visit.

  I walked over to the table and slid onto the green vinyl bench. The interior of the restaurant was a cheery mix of pale blue and yellow. A long shiny counter topped with a pine butcher's block ran half the length of the room. Clear glass light fixtures hung through the dining area counteracting the perpetual shade of the towering tulip poplars and giving the entire place a bright, warm glow.

  "How was the first day?" Raine asked before I could even settle my bottom in the right spot.

  "It's only been the first morning and don't ask."

  "Uh oh, that's what I thought." Her half dozen metal bracelets made their own jingle jangle tune as she circled her hand in front of me. "I can see it in your aura. It's dark and dingy."

  "Is it also empty and dull, like my story? My first assignment is to cover the retirement of the high school custodian. H
ey, you don't happen to know anything about his retirement?"

  Raine's eyes rounded behind her equally round glasses. "Why would I know anything about that?"

  I shrugged. "Just wondered." I opened the menu.

  Ballard walked over and set down two glasses of water. "Have you decided?"

  "I think I'm in the mood for the Grace Kelly. Light and elegant. Thin slices of turkey layered with butter lettuce, tomatoes and sprouts," I read straight from the menu.

  "I'm going for my usual, the Cary Grant." Raine grinned up at Ballard. "Can't get enough of your applewood bacon." The food items on the menu were all named after golden age film stars. And every item was layers of yum.

  Ballard wrote down the order and collected the menus. "Ursula and Henry came through here this morning for breakfast before heading out to your place. Ursula said something about an unexplained noise yesterday. Any signs of that ghost yet?"

  Raine sat forward, all ears and waiting for my response.

  I raised a brow at her. "Really? Don't you think you'll be the first person I text when I spot the infamous Cider Ridge ghost?"

  Raine sat back hard enough that the vinyl seat sighed. "You're right. Besides, you'll need me to communicate with the spirit."

  Ballard snickered before she walked away with the menus.

  "I'm going to have to talk to Ursula. That's all I need is people stirring up those haunted rumors again. It will hardly make for an inviting bed and breakfast if ghouls are floating through the hallways."

  "They're two different entities. One is a monster and one is the apparition of a dead person. Both incorporeal, of course," Raine clarified.

  "Of course, wouldn't it be silly to think they weren't."

  Raine smirked at my sarcasm. "Sure, mock me. But when you see your first ghost, you'll be speed dialing your friend, Raine, the ghost expert." Raine's bracelets clanged against the table as she rested her arms on her placemat. "What about that séance?"

  I moaned. "Not that again, Raine. I've got so much on my mind right now."

  "Like what?" she asked as she tore open her straw.

  "Uh, let me think. The inn, the new job, the article with a Friday deadline that will be as boring and dry as a shopping list unless I find some intriguing angle." I sat back dejectedly. "It will be my first story in the Junction Times and people will be skipping right past it to find out what the produce specials are at Rowley's Market. I had such high hopes for my journalism career."

  "Well, a ghost at the inn would make a great story."

  I stared at her across the table. "You are like Newman and his tennis ball, obsessed and a little kooky."

  Ballard returned with our orders. "Enjoy."

  "Hey, Ballard, do you know anything about Alder Stevens' retirement from Smithville High School?"

  She shook her head. "Sorry, I was a Hickory Flats girl. Anything else?" she asked.

  "Yeah, a scoop," I muttered.

  "A scoop of ice cream?" she asked.

  "No, I'm sorry. I'm just venting. Thanks, this looks delicious."

  Sirens sounded in the distance. The local police station was located off Butternut Crest between Hickory Flats and Firefly Junction. The sirens screamed louder, which meant they were heading through town.

  Raine and I stared out the window and watched as two police cars raced past, sirens blaring and lights flashing. "I wonder where they're racing off to," Raine said as she picked up half her sandwich.

  "They're probably heading toward something that is far more intriguing than the early retirement of a high school custodian."

  Raine pressed her napkin to her mouth to wipe away the mayonnaise. "Maybe you should chase after them," she quipped.

  I laughed at her comment and was just about to take a bite when it hit me. Raine was right. Whatever was at the end of the police parade, it was certain to be more interesting than my current assignment. I picked up my sandwich and wrapped it in napkins.

  "Where are you going?" Raine asked.

  "I'm going to chase after them just like you suggested." I pulled some money out and placed it on the table. "Wish me luck."

  "You don't need it," Raine said as I slipped out of the booth. "Your aura already looks much better. Wait. I'm coming with you. You might need my psychic insight." She grabbed her sandwich and put her money on the table. We waved to Ballard on our way out.

  Chapter 7

  By the time Raine and I had climbed into my jeep, the police cars were well out of sight. But we could still hear the sirens echoing off the mountains. The squad cars had raced east on Edgewood Drive, which meant they'd traveled along Crimson Grove and over the Colonial Bridge.

  Even with my thick off-road tires, the wood planks of the Colonial Bridge made my teeth clatter as we drove between the stone walls of the semi-covered bridge. The bridge crossed over a year round creek that carried snow melt down from the mountains. It also connected Firefly Junction to two towns, the Birch Highlands and Smithville.

  Raine sat up higher in her seat and looked around as we emerged from the bridge. She pointed ahead. "I see the lights. It looks like they've stopped at Wilderness Park, just off Bear Road."

  One police car had stopped at the far corner of the park. The second one had turned to block the entrance to the tiny parking lot, signaling no one else could enter. I parked along the road and stopped to watch the activity while I came up with a plan. I hadn't met any of the local police force, but I was certain they were as opposed as every other police force to the intrusion of the press. Sirens whined behind us and an ambulance reached the parking lot. The officer, a young man with hair shaved close and a crisp, polished uniform waved the emergency vehicle through.

  "I've never seen this park. It looks nice, except for the police presence and feeling of gloom in the air." I leaned down to get a better look through the windshield. "It's also fairly deserted."

  "It's the time of day. And sadly, I don't think it gets used as much now that kids are into video games." Raine was always thrilled to supply me with information about the town. "It's a great park though. The playground set and picnic tables are perfect for little kids’ birthday parties, and when you outgrow bouncer and cupcake parties, those trails on the other side of the ravine lead to all kinds of secret kiss spots. My first kiss happened right up on that last trail behind the cluster of white birch trees. His name was Trevor Black, and he was dreamy. Or at least my fourteen-year-old self thought he was. I saw him recently and hadn’t realized that his nose was shaped like a parrot's beak and he had thin, angry lips."

  "Well, that was a much more detailed description of the park than I needed but thanks. What about that ravine? It looks like a rushing river."

  "Manmade extension of the river under the bridge. It helps with the runoff when the snow is melting too fast. It also keeps the park from flooding. They had to put up that unsightly safety fencing because silly people were always trying to jump across it."

  "By silly people, I assume you mean hormone crazed teenagers?"

  "Pretty much."

  I stretched my neck up to get a look over the police cars. "It seems the center of their attention is in that remote corner of the park. I need to get a closer look." I clipped my press badge onto the collar of my shirt. "Ready, partner?" I looked over at Raine.

  "I don't know, Sunni. I'm getting a bad vibe."

  "Exactly. I thought that's why you tagged along. To read auras and what not."

  "You're right." She opened the door. "Let's go."

  I pointed out a cement pathway that forked when it reached the safety fence in front of the ravine. A park visitor could either go toward the lush green lawns, children's playground and a small pond and fountain or toward the far less groomed side where the trailheads began. The pond was dotted with a group of ducks and geese that didn't look the least bit disturbed by the activity on the other side of the park.

  A low retaining wall made of river stone and cement circled around the wilderness side of the park where a large,
brick fire pit sat filled with the gray ash of campfires. Raine followed close behind as we headed along the path to the stone wall. Her noisy bracelets jangled with each step as we tried to inch our way closer to the police activity. I looked pointedly at the loud jewelry and she slid them off and held them tightly in her hand.

  We made it to the edge of the stone wall, which was still a good two hundred yards from where the police were standing, but the position of the afternoon sun illuminated the dark corner of the park like a spotlight. As the large man in a gray coat that was far too small for his width stepped aside, Raine and I caught a glimpse of a body. The man was lying face down in a smooth patch of red clay dirt. It was one of the few sections in the park that was not covered with grass or cement. A dark pool of blood circled the victim’s head.

  Raine gasped and covered her mouth to mute the sound. "I knew it. I knew they were looking at a dead body. How awful."

  "Judging by the old fashioned hat and gray hair, it looks like an older man." A brown paper bag fluttered in the breeze nearby. Shiny bird seed was scattered around the body. The officers were having a heck of a time keeping the pigeons out of the crime scene.

  "It looks like the man was just out feeding birds." Raine gasped again. "Do you think he died like in a Hitchcock movie where the birds go crazy and peck people's eyes out?"

  I looked back at her. Sometimes Raine's thoughts were so out there, I could actually be convinced that she did have a sixth sense. Or, at the very least, some kind of sense us normal folk were lacking. "That could be one explanation. Or maybe it was that bullet hole in his temple."

  "Really?" Raine leaned her hands on my shoulders and tiptoed to get a better view. "Oooh, why did I look? Poor man. Still, I feel better that the birds didn't attack him. That would be very creepy."

  "Where's Jax?" the big man bellowed to the other officers. "Has someone gotten hold of Jackson yet?"

  "Who is that big, gruff man yelling orders?"

  Raine stepped back, no longer wanting to see the grim scene. "That's Police Chief Walker. I used to be friends with his daughter, Dorothy, in junior high. He's more bark than bite, as they say. He's pretty gruff and rough around the edges, but when he wasn't acting like a lawman, he would take Dot and me out for ice cream and ice skating." Raine crinkled her nose. "He's gotten a bit rotund and out of shape since then. That slim woman cop with the dark copper hair and olive skin is Inez Reed. She went to school with me too, but she was a few years younger. Super smart and the fastest person on the cross country team. Her father is the curator of a military and police museum in the city, and she knows her guns."