“Who are they?” I muttered to Lamar. One thing cops will do is check out who comes to the funerals of murder victims. Sometimes it can be very instructive.
“Classmates, I think,” he said. “High school.”
“Ah.” I had purposely “forgotten” to sign the sympathy book at the entrance. This would allow me to go back to sign it later, and check out the names. Cop thing. I made a mental note to check for three women's names in a group.
Lamar and I sort of wandered over to the leather chairs that lined one wall, and stood there, looking somber and wishing we were somewhere else. Hester joined us, and that was a real highlight. Ought to give you some idea.
A few moments later, accompanied by a flash as some intrepid reporter took a photo through the open door, the crew from the Mansion came in. All were in black or a combination of black and dark colors, gray or maroon. Kevin, Huck, and Melissa wore black leather knee-length coats. Toby just had a black leather vest over his maroon turtleneck, and Hanna was carrying a dark green suede jacket. Very presentable, I thought, and the dark colors were certainly appropriate. Granted, they looked rather pale, and the women wore very dark lipstick. So what.
Well, apparently Edie's mother felt otherwise. Even in the muted space of the funeral home, I heard her say something about “the freaks.” Several heads turned toward the five, who were signing the sympathy book. They'd obviously heard, but were choosing not to notice.
Lamar left Hester and me, and went to his sister, to make sure there wasn't a scene. When the five got to them, Lamar set the example, shaking their hands and thanking them for coming. This left his sister with little real choice, although she certainly didn't shake hands.
The five proceeded toward the casket, and stood in a group, and held hands for what seemed a long minute. As they turned, Hanna's hands went to her eyes, and she started to weave. Huck and Melissa escorted her to a chair, while Kevin and Toby came over to Hester and me.
“She all right?” I asked as they passed.
“Fine,” said Toby. “She's fine. So, we're 'freaks,' I hear.”
“Let it ride,” I said.
They continued toward the three girls who had come in together, and who Lamar had identified as Edie's former classmates. Kevin and Toby seemed to be introducing themselves, and making small talk. Good.
Huck approached Hester, and quietly asked if she knew where they might get some aspirin or Tylenol for Hanna. Hester took her to find the funeral director.
So far, not too unusual a wake.
Old Knockle came in, looking distinguished in his uniform. I was impressed. He'd had to take Chester to Maitland, get the bond, and get back here in pretty short time. Since I was now by myself, and he was, too, I waited for him to do the obligatory stop at Lamar, the mother, and then the casket. When his counterclockwise tour brought him to me, I suggested we go to one of the adjoining rooms, where they had coffee and cookies set out.
“Second reason I came, Carl.”
He and I secured two chairs within easy striking distance of the cookies, and started what I assumed would be a fairly bland, time-killing conversation. It did start that way, and I found myself telling him how impressed I was with the Mansion.
As it turned out, he'd helped restore it years ago, and his late uncle had been caretaker for the last members of the original family who had lived there.
“When did they move out?” Bland. Just curious.
“In the late ffities.”
“What did the original owner do, do you know?”
“He was into grain shipping, and mining, and lumber,” he said. “They were into just about anything in this area that could make 'em rich.”
“Worked,” I said.
“Indeed it did,” said Knockle.
“You know, I always wondered why they put it there in the first place.”
Knockle settled in, and I began to suspect I'd bitten off more than I'd intended. “The original owner, a man named Givens, wanted privacy. That old German Kommune had drilled way down, and got a well going before they went belly up. So he had a well ready made. It was close to the mine he owned, just south of there. That silica outfit.”
I nodded. “Didn't they use that to cast fine gears or something?” “For fine glass, originally,” he said. “Sand's got the consistency of grainy flour, produced a fine glass.”
“Ah.”
“The gear casting came later. Fine grain again, didn't have to machine them much after they were cast.”
“Oh.”
“Old man Givens was really a penny-pincher in some ways, though. Used to visit that mine every day, to check things. Then right across to the old steamboat dock, where they loaded his grain. That ain't there no more, 'course. Took that out about 1930. Mine's closed, went out back in the late sixties.”
“Yeah.”
He kept on. It was my fault. I knew Old Knockle talked a lot.
“Old man Givens got so tired of making that trip down to the valley and then over to the river, he had 'em put in some sort of cable car when they was ffxin' up the railroad about 1890 or so. So he could just go straight on down. His wife used to use it, too, to go to Chicago. For culture. Yep, the train stopped right there, if the flag at the stop was up. Had their very own car on the siding. Named the stop Givens' Switch, just for them. Really rich.” He chuckled. “Called the cable car Givens' Railroad, up here in Freiberg.”
That got my attention. I leaned well forward. “What happened to the cable car?”
“I don't truly know,” he said. “I seem to remember hearin' that they'd replaced it with something, but if I ever heard what, I forgot it by now. There's nothin' there now, I can tell you that. We were all over that hillside yesterday.” He smiled, and got up to get another cookie. “Don't get yourself all excited, Carl. Want another cookie?”
“Sure.” While he got them, I was thinking that, while the cable car might not be there, there surely had to have been a path down the bluff at that point. Had to be. Maybe trees had grown over it, but leveled ground could enable a faster passage…
He sat back down and handed me my cookie. “You know, did you see those big bolts in the wall, upstairs on the second floor?”
“What? Uh, no, no I didn't.”
“You know,” he said, “that big old house was built in two parts. Halves. The north side was built first. They added a matching south side some ten years after the north side was ffnished. Secured the two halves together with big railroad shafts and bolts. Just like the courthouse in Maitland.”
I'd seen the bolts in the courthouse. “Oh, yeah, the big bolts.”
“The ones in the house are covered by big lizards.” He thought a second. “No, dragons.”
“Gargoyles?”
“Yeah. That's it.”
Now he had me going. “How did you know they were bolts, then? Was that common?”
“Coulda been, but I seen some of the blueprints for the house, at the historical society.”
“Oh.” Blueprints. “Here in Freiberg?”
“Oh, no, nope. Not here. Over in Lake Geneva, in Wisconsin, where the family moved. When they had too much money to spend here,” he said with a grin. “It's all donated to their historical society over there.”
“In Wisconsin… that makes sense,” I said. It did. It also made sense that it was out of my jurisdiction and I wanted to see it. “When did you see that?”
“The blueprints? Oh,” he said, “maybe ten, fifteen years back, I think. When Emma and I went in to Madison for her mother's funeral. Maybe twelve?” He nodded vigorously. “Twelve. Yep, twelve. We took a swing down to the lake afterward, you know. Might as well get some use out of the mileage, see.”
“Absolutely.” Luck smiles sometimes.
“I see that the crew from the Mansion came,” he said.
“Yep.”
“You think they're weird, Carl?”
“No weirder than anybody else.”
“Some of 'em seem nice. But I don't
know why they dress like that. Just to make people look?”
“Making a statement. Nothing else.”
“I think they do it just to aggravate people.” He stared across the room to where Toby and Kevin were still talking to the girls. “The darkhaired kid with the thing through his nose, see him? That's what I mean.”
“Pretty harmless, I think. Really. Remember, not too long ago, burning the campus down? The sixties and seventies?”
“Yeah.”
“Which you rather have? That, or these kids?” I suppressed a smile. “Or, back in your day, the agitators who wanted to go against the King?”
He looked at me squarely. “You ain't too big for me to whip.”
I almost missed what he said, because my eye had settled on the figure of William Chester, standing near the coffin. I drew Knockle's attention to him.
“What's he doing here?”
Old Knockle stared for a second. “Oh. Uh, well, I know what you said, but he had the bond money right with him, and since I had to bring him back up this way, and I was comin' right here anyway, I thought it'd be okay if I left him in the car.” He cleared his throat. “Looks like he got out.”
“That it does.”
“I'm really sorry, Carl. He said he'd stay in the car.”
“I just bet he did.” I didn't want to draw too much attention to Chester, but for two cents I would have just walked up and knocked the idiot over the head.
After taking some of the sting out for Knockle by getting him another cookie, I went looking for Hester. I saw her two rooms away, but before I could get to her, I felt a tap on my shoulder. Byng, in uniform. He looked very concerned.
“Carl, you got a second?” he asked in a low voice.
“Sure.”
He motioned me toward the hall, and I followed.
“I got a call from Harry,” he said. “They got a missing persons report on Alicia Meyer. She's been having a real rough time over her boyfriend and all, a'course. She was at a friend's house over in Conception County last night. They went out to eat at Gourmet Georges'. She went to the john, never came back. Guess her friends spent most of the night lookin' for her. Can't find her. She's just disappeared.”
“What time, any idea?”
“Not sure, but it had to be before one A.M. That's when Gourmet Georges' closes for the night.”
“So, like what? Somebody snatched her right out of the women's room?” That was spooky.
“Oh, no. No, I forgot. Her car was gone, too. Like she just drove off.”
That put a completely different complexion on the case. I was relieved. “Ah. So, maybe she just wants to get away for a while?”
“It's not like her, they say.”
“They always say that, don't they? I mean, if it was like her, they wouldn't have reported it.”
He let that sink in. “Well, sure.”
“I'll bet Harry finds her before supper,” I said.
“Hope so,” he said. He looked around. “Lamar's here? I really ought to express myself to him before I leave.”
“Good idea.” I pointed out the receiving line. “Don't forget to sign the register.”
I found Hester in another anteroom, talking with the funeral director and two older gentlemen I recognized as teachers from Freiberg High. I motioned, and she got away fairly quickly. I told her, quickly and quietly, about the cable car, and about the blueprints. I also mentioned William Chester. She'd already seen him.
“I hope he's not here for the reason I think he is,” she said very quietly.
“Pardon?”
“I hope he's not here hunting,” she said, a little louder.
“Yeah.”
Just as I was about to mention Alicia Meyer taking off, we were interrupted by one of Edie's three classmates.
“Excuse me, are you Deputy Houseman?” She was about five-ten, slender, brown hair and eyes, maybe twenty-five or so.
“Yes.”
“Hello, I'm sorry to bother you, but my name is Darcy Becker, and I knew Edie, and the sheriff just said that I should be talking with you.” She seemed very confident, self-assured, and sophisticated. Polished. As Old Knockle would have said, you could tell she'd been away.
Since Lamar had handed her off, I was fairly certain that she'd approached him with something important about the case. Something he thought we should hear, and something he figured he shouldn't.
“Nice to meet you. This,” I said, gesturing toward Hester, “is Special Agent Gorse of the Iowa DCI.”
“Hello,” said Hester.
“Oh. Are you, well, working together? About this?”
“I'd suggest,” said Hester, “that we might step outside.”
The media were out there. We ended up moving out through the kitchen, past the preparation and, if necessary, autopsy room; and ended up in the garage between two parked hearses. It was a little gloomy, but it was private as hell.
“So, Lamar said you should talk to me?”
“Yes,” she said. “He said that this… well, I thought that since Edie had, well, taken her own life… I thought I might know why. The sheriff said I should talk to you right away.”
“Why did you think she might have killed herself?” asked Hester.
“Well, I know she's been kind of down. Lately. Well, for a while, really. But lately, things had taken a turn, I think… ” She looked at us beseechingly. “I don't really know, but she had gotten mixed up with some older man. I think.”
Hester and I exchanged looks.
“It's possible,” I said. “Why do you think that?”
“Well, we tried to get together, and we talked on e-mail, and I couldn't make it, and she called me, because it was going to be her daughter's birthday, and she was worried, it seemed to me. No. Well. No, no, she was frightened. Scared. Worried and scared, I guess.”
“About… ” I prompted.
She sighed. “Well, I called her, I mean when I couldn't make it. And we talked on the phone.”
You have to be so careful not to spook somebody, but at the same time, you sometimes just about have to drag the simplest stuff out of them.
“About some older man?” Hester, this time. Gently, not wanting to stress her.
“Yes. I think she was, well, involved. Pretty far, I think. And I think he was either married, from what she said, or at least there was another woman in the picture, and she was afraid to let him go, and afraid to stay.” She looked at Hester. “You know?”
“I think so,” said Hester.
It struck me then. “You wouldn't be 'DarcyB2' would you? Your e-mail address?”
“I… Yes, I am.” She looked at me and thrust her head forward slightly. “How on earth do you know that?”
“Let's back up a bit,” I said. “There are a couple of things you apparently haven't heard about this.”
As it turned out, on Sunday she and her two friends had heard Edie was dead, that it was suicide, and they had scurried around and gotten away from Iowa City and Marengo, where they worked, and headed up after lunch. Darcy's only solid news was from her mother, who was the one who originally called on Sunday.
“In the first place,” I said, “Edie didn't commit suicide.”
“You mean it was an accident?” She looked surprised.
“No, I'm afraid not. Edie was murdered.” Boy, if I thought she'd looked surprised before…
There was a sort of gasp, her chin quivered a little, and then instant tears. No real crying. Just tears.
“Like to sit down?” I offered.
“No, no, that's fine.” Darcy had come equipped with a pocket full of tissues. She blew her nose. “Oh, God. The poor kid. The poor, poor kid.”
We couldn't have agreed more.
In the next few minutes, we got an encapsulated life story of Edith Younger. It was kind of interesting, because it was as close to being from Edie's perspective as we were likely to ever get, and was something we probably wouldn't have gotten otherwise. It was very helpful.
Darcy had moved to Freiberg with her parents when she was in third grade. She first met Edie on the first day of school that year, and by the end of the semester, they were fast friends. They remained so all the way through high school, going so far as to want to own a beauty salon together, in about fifth grade, and planning to jointly operate a horse ranch by the time they were juniors.
Darcy said that Edie was quite intelligent, and had absolutely excelled in high school. Got fine SAT scores. Was ready to go to college with Darcy and the rest, when she found herself just a little bit pregnant early in the summer of graduation.
“He was a real loser, and we told her that he was,” said Darcy. “The problem was, her mother told her the same thing. You know how that is?”
We said we did. The young man was a bit of a jerk and a rebel. Only not particularly good at it. Edie was apparently on the outs with her mother, who had been “just mean to her, all her life.”
When I asked what, exactly, she meant by that, Darcy told a little story.
“Oh, an example would be best. Well. One night, my date and I came to her house to pick her and her date up. He was already there, we were going to double. And Edie made kind of an entrance, you know, from upstairs? Came down, looked really pretty, and her mother said 'Oh, you look so pretty. I just wish you'd picked that other dress.' That sort of thing, see? All the time. Just always had to down her a little.”
“Okay.” I mean, it wouldn't have bothered me a whole lot, but I could see how it could sting. I could also see how it could get a little old after a while.
So Edie got pregnant. Nothing deliberate. Just what happened because she got involved with the young man to spite her mother. Edie had pretty strong principles, and decided to keep the baby. She also decided not to keep the young man. Her mother had, ostensibly, supported her all the way. That was until the baby was born, and it turned out that Edie couldn't support the kid. Her mother had become absolutely relentless about putting her down, for her small income and for getting pregnant.
Edie moved out, and took the kid with her. That lasted for about three months, according to Darcy. Then Edie decided that it wasn't healthy for her little daughter to live the way they had to live. Edie absolutely refused to move home. Her mother offered to take the child for a while, to help.
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