by Nora LeDuc
Time to test Buddy’s memory. “According to my father’s cold cases, there was another young woman who died four or five years ago in North Conway.”
“What’s your point? New Hampshire was always a scary place?”
“Murders are big events in our state.”
“The police better make Shauna’s attack a big deal and catch the crazy guy today.”
Luke stood. His questions had gotten him nowhere except to acknowledge a physical similarity to Rose’s pursuer on Main Street. “We’ll arrest him, Bud.”
“You’re always confident. It doesn’t matter if you’re shooting on the basketball court or pursuing a criminal.” His angry expression fell away. “Don’t pressure Shauna. I’ve told you everything she knows. She gave her statement and doesn’t want to keep reliving it. She needs to rest.”
Buddy didn’t sound supportive of the investigation despite complaining he wanted the attacker arrested. “You must be taking her home soon.”
“My mom insisted we bring her to their house so she’s not alone when she’s discharged. Shauna didn’t want to call her parents in Connecticut and worry them.”
“I’ll read the report. Shauna can talk to me anytime. I’ll come to the house, and we can meet in private away from the station.”
“Don’t count on it, Luke. She wishes tonight never happened and can’t wait to put it in her past.” The corners of his mouth lifted. “I’m going to sleep in my old room. We’ll be one big, happy family at the Drown home.”
Shauna was the victim and the one who deserved to be happy. Luke wanted to say, but the hospital was not the place for a lecture. “Give Shauna my love.” He’d go over her statement at the station and catch up with her when she’d calmed down.
Buddy stood. “It’s good to have you back.” He held out his hand.
Luke accepted the handshake and remembered all the times they’d high fived over trouncing the visiting teams, eaten at each other’s houses and griped about their teachers.
“You’ll let me know as soon as you arrest the guy.”
“You have my word.” Luke left the waiting room and drove to Rose’s apartment. A soft glow backlit the drawn shade in the front window. The temptation to visit her was strong. Maybe he could spare a few minutes.
He slowed and finally pulled over. The street was quiet. He could be upstairs in seconds.
Digging out his phone, he hit her number.
“Lennox?” Her voice sounded clear and close.
“How are you?”
“I’m fine, how’s Shauna?”
He summarized Buddy’s version of the attack.
“I’d hoped you’d get a lead,” Rose said, her tone heavy with disappointment. “At least, she got him with the pepper spray and escaped.”
“Once Shauna’s over the initial shock, she may remember an important detail. I’ll re-interview her. Sleep tight, Rose.” He clicked off, and threw a last glance at her window. He wished he was joining her.
He imagined her running across the floor to answer his knock. Her hazel eyes would light with recognition, and a smile would spread across her face. Mentally, he skimmed over her full lips as she said hello and then downward to the curve of her hips where he’d slide his hand around her waist. Then he’d—
His phone rang, ending his fantasy.
“Lenn-ox,” the Chief’s voice barked. “What are you doing up there in New Hampshire?”
The image of his middle-aged boss gritting out each word while clenching a cigar popped into his mind.
“The Mayor and I have been playing phone tag all day. I finally caught him, and he chewed my ass off, informing me Dean Drown’s future daughter-in-law was attacked in one of our garages that we’ve claimed are safe. Do I need to remind you the Mayor’s up for re-election. Follow the domino effect. I also don’t want to announce to my wife that her first vacation in thirty years is over. She’ll miss the rest of her baby daughter’s wedding celebrations because the man I hired for head detective can’t keep our pledge to protect the citizens of Ledgeview.”
“I’m on it, Chief. I’m trying to uncover a link between the attack in the garage and the Dahlia Blue homicide.”
“Find it and start issuing warrants for arrests. Now. I don’t have time to talk, but understand, I won’t be happy to cut my family vacation short.”
“Understood.”
The click announced the end of the conversation.
The subtext of the phone call was clear. The Chief had gone out on a limb to hire Luke and not promote from within. Was it because he’d believed Luke was good at his job, or was it as everyone whispered—the chief’s friendship with Luke’s dad had gotten him the job?
Luke felt his limb of safety shaking and ready to break. The light in Rose’s window glowed through the shade as he drove his vehicle down the street.
When he reached the Station, the building was quiet. In his cubicle, he saw the blinking red light indicating a message on his landline. Was the Chief calling again to fire him? He hit the button and retrieved a voicemail from Frank that asked him to call. Luke hit his friend’s number.
“Hey, Luke my boy. I’m going to make your day. I nabbed another picture of Dahlia Blue’s Old Lover Boy for you.”
“You mean A.J. Edwards. Where did you get it?”
“I’m an ex detective. I drove to his high school in Rhode Island. Let’s see. He was an only child.” Frank recited A.J.’s birth date, place of birth and educational history. “The guy was big into sports but peaked during his teens. One of the women who worked in the school’s office told me she remembered him when he attended classes with her son. She said he was the quiet type, and didn’t socialize much, but he wasn’t as silent as his cousin who he lived with. She rarely spoke. People used to joke the cat stole her tongue and sold it on eBay. Guess she spent a lot of time absent too. She dropped out of high school and sight.”
“I’m not sure who is stranger, the cousin or the people making the statements about her. What else do you have?”
“A.J. Edwards’s father went to jail for embezzling from the car dealership where he worked. That’s when A.J. was ten, and he went to live with his silent cousin and her father. Guess A.J.’s mother couldn’t provide for him when authorities sent her husband to the big house.”
“I’ve a feeling about him. Find out more about the father and the rest of the family. We can interview them all. Maybe one of them lives in New Hampshire, and A.J. was familiar with our area because of the family.”
“I’ve dug into his background. The uncle owned the town garage in Rhode Island but died three years ago. No one’s been able to trace what happened to the cousin or Edwards’ parents.”
“Good job, and when was the last time you saw Buddy Drown?”
“I drove by his house before I left for out of state. I didn’t see him. Want me back on his tail?”
“His girlfriend, Shauna Smith, was attacked in the parking garage next to the bank around seven thirty tonight. She spray peppered the guy and escaped with only bruises. She gave a vague description of her attacker. Here’s my question. Was Edwards angry enough with Dahlia over their breakup that he followed her to Ledgeview and killed her? Then decided to stick around and terrorize more women?”
“That’s a leap, but we follow them all. Pretty gutsy to attack in a busy downtown garage.
A patrol rides through every night.”
“The patrol had passed through. The attacker probably staked out the lot and learned the times of the rounds.”
“Any fights between the victim and your friend, Buddy?”
“You can’t suspect Buddy Drown of assaulting his girlfriend, Frank. Besides he has an alibi. He was at Tiny’s Bar where he ordered a drink. The story’s being confirmed.”
“There’s always an alibi. Are you working the assault case?”
“I’m not the primary, at the moment, but if a connection to the Blue case comes up, I’m on it.”
“I bet you get one
.”
“I hope so, Frank.” He hesitated for a second. “I’ve a question for you. I recently contacted the witness, Mr. Simon Zinger, from the cold case in North Conway.”
“Go on.”
“Notes indicated Zinger might have seen the kidnapper’s vehicle on the class six road near where he was fishing. The driver headed into the woods in a silver pickup. The victim’s body was found two miles from the sighting.”
“Did his memory improve with the years?”
“He wasn’t helpful at first. During our little talk he mentioned something new. He’d spotted a bumper sticker on the truck: This car climbed Mount Washington.”
“They give out thousands every year, Luke, and how does a sticker hook into Dahlia Blue?”
“It’s another long shot, I know. I’m trying to tie the attacks together.” He blew an exasperated breath. Was he inventing links to the recent homicide?
“No evidence confirmed that the woman’s killer drove the vehicle, Luke.”
“I’ll keep working on it. We’ll talk later, Frank.” After he hung up, he replayed Frank’s doubts about Buddy in his mind. Good thing Bud stopped at Tiny’s and could produce witnesses.
He opened a manila envelope on his desk and dumped out the contents. The Vermont
Police had sent A.J. Edward’s financial, phone and email records.
Luke circled in red several large sums of cash deposited and withdrawn on dates when he lived in Brattleboro and dated Dahlia. The phone records turned up nothing but he might have had a throw away. The emails raised more red flags. Many referred to business arrangements and meetings and were from ISPs from various states. What kind of trade was this mechanic into?
Luke punched in the number of the Vermont detective’s private cell. The man answered immediately.
“I’m the detective on the Dahlia Blue homicide. I’m following up on your police department’s report of A.J. Edwards. Any chance there’s anything new to add?”
“No sign of him in our town. The report was written the first week of March when the Blue woman had been missing a week.”
“When did you send the file?”
“I personally gave it to Detective Conroy while he was here re-interviewing a few of the neighbors. He said you’d read it right away. I guess with the change of commands the file got buried. Glad you’re following up. We’ll help if we can.”
“I’ll take you up on the offer if we need more manpower.” Luke clicked off. Buried was exactly what Conroy had done with the file. He probably only produced it now because he was aware Luke was looking closer at Edwards and would start asking more questions.
Luke let out some choice words and swiveled his chair to the computer. He’d find Edwards despite Conroy. The mechanic was beginning to look more and more like a person of interest.
Luke booted up his computer. Within minutes, he’d signed into Facebook using his alias and posted a picture of a sweet, red Maserati. Next to the picture he typed: Will hire a mechanic with a slow hand and a tender touch for my baby. I’m willing to pay extra for reliable service. Will travel anywhere in the state of Rhode Island.
“We’re going to have a face-to-face, A.J.” Luke signed off.
Chapter 15
It was time to up the fun. She’d been in Ledgeview long enough. Now was time for Rose to learn she wasn’t alone. Eyes were watching.
Time for a little personal moment. You know I care, pretty Rose.
* * *
Rose raised her head from the kitchen table and squinted at the clock. It was after eleven pm. She must have fallen asleep while writing in her journal. She wobbled to her feet. She’d pick up the diary later. Sleep called to her. In the bathroom, she got ready for bed and pulled on a T-shirt. Afterwards, she sank onto the sofa bed wishing Lennox was downstairs searching for clues in the old restaurant. His presence always made her feel protected.
Rose relaxed under the warmth of her blanket with visions of Lennox dancing in her head.
She woke a short time later when the cold penetrated the cover and chilled her feet and hands. What happened to the heat? She should check the thermostat, but leaving her cocoon seemed less appealing. Outside the wind howled, and rain beat on the window like a child throwing a tantrum. She tucked the edges of the blanket around herself and heard another sound.
Soft sobs mixed with the moans of the wind. Someone was whimpering in her apartment. Rose tugged the blanket beneath her chin and turned over to stare into the living room shadows. The chair and lamp took shape in the dark as she searched for the source of the weeping. She threw the coverlet off and sat up.
“Dahlia?”
The cries stopped.
Rose slid her feet over the side of the bed. The cool air infiltrated her flannel sweats. She grabbed the gray spread and wrapped it around herself and tiptoed across the room. The matted fibers of the rug scraped across the soles of her bare feet. She paused at the edge of the kitchen floor and snapped on the light.
Her door held by the chain was cracked open. What? Hadn’t she locked it when she went to bed? She jumped forward, slammed and locked it. Rose shivered. Outside the rain smacked against the windows. The wind’s moans grew louder and changed into the sound of tearing duct tape until the rip of the tape grew in her head. Rose grabbed her purse from the counter and dug out the gun.
She held the weapon with an unsteady hand and scouted the rooms where nothing was out of order. Finally, she sank into the kitchen chair. She laid her weapon down and stared down at her journal that she’d left on the table. One sentence was written across the page. She didn’t remember starting another page.
She swept up the book. The new entry stared up from the paper. Go home!
The dot in the exclamation point was a heart, just like Dahlia had always used.
* * *
The next morning, Rose finished her breakfast and decided to walk to the police station to show Lennox the page. Everything seemed ordinary in the light of day and her message from beyond the grave seemed impossible, but then Dahlia appearing to her was not likely either.
Still, doubts ate at her. Had she somehow written the warning while she was half asleep? People walked and ate in their sleep. Why not write? The cool air whipped through her jeans, and she zipped up her parka. She hurried past the cupcake store on Main where customers lined up to buy their favorite flavor before the store ran out. Overhead, the bright sunshine held out a false promise of warmth. A piece of paper and dirt blew toward her, and she averted her face.
Resting her hand on the bulge of the gun in her purse, she broke into a jog and reached police headquarters in six minutes. The uniformed clerk behind the glass took her name and told her to wait. She should have called Lennox first. Maybe he wanted to avoid her after their unofficial date at the Drowns. At least it felt like a date, until the end. Of course, Lennox wouldn’t let a woman distract him from his job. Single minded or bull headed described him best. In Lennox, the characteristic was an admirable trait.
She found an empty chair against the wall in the station’s waiting area. Two senior citizens were seated at the end of the row. A walker reposed in front of one of the men. Near the clerk’s area, another elderly gentleman in a wheelchair kept watch on everyone entering and leaving. The clerk called a name and the senior with combed over hair grabbed his walker and wavered to his feet. He crept toward the metal detector while the officer held the door open.
“Some people seem to get more consideration than the rest of us,” a short, pudgy man at the end of the row huffed.
What was the story with the elderly? She’d little time to imagine before the clerk called her name. Rose was admitted through the metal detector and then led toward Lennox’s cubicle.
The large workroom was full of oldsters being interviewed. “Did someone mug a little old lady in the crosswalk or are they auditioning for a remake of the Golden Girls?” she asked, entering Lennox’s space without waiting for him to invite her inside.
Hi
s taut face alerted her he hadn’t slept much.
“Morning, Rose.” His eyes warmed. “It’s nice to talk to someone today who’s not mad they canceled Murder She Wrote. Sit.” He threw out a hand at the metal chair in front of his desk. “We’re re-interviewing the cast of The Angels Are Singing Tonight. Myra included every breathing, elderly male of the Ledgeview Senior Citizen community.”
“You’re interviewing the entire cast?”
“We can’t let anyone slip through.” He sipped from a steaming mug, and the aroma of coffee floated into the air.
“You’re drinking Espresso. It has a good bold taste that suits you.” Rose inhaled the scent for a quick caffeine fix before she perched on the chair warm from the last body.
“Glad to have your stamp of approval, Miss Blue. I could use more. By the way, nothing forensic showed on the pin from your doorbell. They can be bought at any discount store with a craft or sewing department.”
“Sorry. Did you hear any more about Shauna this morning?” She rested her purse in her lap.
“No word from the Drowns or Shauna.”
“Too bad, but I won’t take up much of your time.” She fished in her purse and removed the journal. “I found a sentence I don’t remember writing in my entry last night, and it’s bugged me.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I fell asleep and the last thing I remember writing was my name in my diary. When I woke up, this sentence was printed on the next blank page. She held out the journal.
He stared at the words, Go home! His face remained expressionless. “I’ll have my handwriting expert examine it. If someone broke into your apartment—”
“The chain was on. No one could have gone in or out unless they were a shadow.”
“Rose, your stalker could have locked himself inside.”
“Inside?” Sick dread closed her throat, and she had to swallow to speak. “There must be a rational explanation.”
“I’ll install a new lock today.”
She dragged an unsteady hand through her hair. “You could be wrong, Lennox. I mean no one was in my apartment this morning, and the chain was still on. It doesn’t make sense. Besides, I’ve been thinking, and I figured out who wrote the words.”
