Hidden Secrets

by Madison Johns

  Darrell rubbed the nervous sweat from his face. “Earle used my identification when he was arrested for fraud. I thought I had cleared it up, but apparently that’s not the case. I’ll have to hire an attorney, but it will be hard to do without a job.”

  “Why did you quit Neiman’s?”

  “I didn’t have a choice, not with you two on my case about Faith. You even managed to get Sheriff Peterson snooping around.”

  “Leaving town makes you appear suspect,” I said. “Things like this just don’t go away.”

  “You knew your lie about Faith would come back to haunt you,” Eleanor added with a curt nod.

  “What lie?” Faith asked meekly.

  “That you went to Oscoda to take care of a sick aunt. Ellen Brighton.”

  “Except that Ellen is in very fine form, and you were supposed to have house sat for her while she was downstate. Why did you tell Bunny Vaverick you’d house sit for Ellen and then tell her you couldn’t?”

  Faith bit her lip. “After I found Wilber dead I knew I had to leave town. I didn’t want my name mixed up in his murder.”

  “Ah, so you know he was murdered -- at least that’s something.”

  “You found him dead two weeks before his body was discovered.” Eleanor gasped. “And you just let his remains sit there decomposing while you made your escape?”

  Faith clenched her small hands into bony fists. “I didn’t have a choice. Whoever killed him might come after me.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  “Wilber wasn’t the only one murdered in that house. There are bloodstains on the carpet.”

  “Yes, we saw the one in the living room.”

  “No, I mean before that. There was a sizable stain on the carpet under the couch.”

  Eleanor tapped her foot, nearly rattling the salt and pepper shakers on the nearby kitchen table. “And when, pray tell, was that?”

  Faith’s brow wrinkled. “About three months ago.”

  “Why were you there?”

  Darrell jumped into the conversation. “I told you —.”

  “You had your two cents,” Eleanor said. “We want to hear what Faith has to say.”

  “I delivered Wilber groceries.”

  “So you spotted a bloodstain on the carpet when you delivered the groceries, but continued to come back,” I said. “That’s doesn’t sound very believable. Would you go back to a house where you noticed bloodstains on the carpet, Eleanor?”

  “Not a chance, but I would have called the police and reported it.”

  “I didn’t think about that. You can’t just go around trying to report everyone who has stains on their carpet. Wilber had the carpet replaced before I made my delivery the next week.”

  I massaged my chin. “What sort of groceries did Wilber have you deliver?”

  “Vegetables. He was a vegetarian ... and cleaning supplies. He must have been a germaphobe because he bought a lot of bleach.”

  “Or a serial killer,” Eleanor said. “What else would explain bloodstains on his carpet and a body disposed of in a barrel on his property?”

  Faith laughed. “I don’t see Wilber as a serial killer. He was too meek.”

  “Then why mention the previous bloodstains on his carpet?”

  “Wilber has a son who is rather nasty. Now I can believe he’s a serial killer.”

  “Angelo?”

  “That’s him.”

  “Is there a reason you’re trying to deflect the thought that Wilber is a serial killer onto his son?”

  Faith bit her lip. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

  “Angelo doesn’t live in Tawas,” Eleanor clarified. “So how could he be the killer?”

  “He visited his father frequently -- almost every weekend.”

  “And his sister?” I asked.

  “Wilber mentioned she comes about once a month.”

  “What was really going on with Wilber? Were you two personally involved?”

  “No!” Faith exclaimed.

  “Then why are you so quick to deny the possibility of Wilber being a killer?”

  “I just don’t understand how you can think that he was if he’s been murdered himself.”

  “We have plenty of possibilities about that,” Eleanor said. “But it sounds more likely that someone who had access to Wilber’s house is the killer. And as it stands, you’re the only one who did.”

  “The tow truck driver was at his house once.”

  “We’re friends with Jimmy, and believe me, he’s no killer.”

  “The only thing Jimmy kills is the money in your wallet if you don’t have road service.” Eleanor chuckled.

  “Darrell told us you were the only one who used the SUV at Neiman’s for deliveries.” I said.

  “I suppose.”

  “He assured us that was the case.”

  “That’s right,” Darrell said, “but where are you going with this?”

  “Where did the cash we found in the SUV come from, Faith?”

  Faith’s eyes widened. “What cash?”

  “A McDonald’s bag full of wadded-up cash,” Eleanor said. “We found it in the SUV.”

  “I might have taken that SUV for deliveries, but I don’t know anything about cash in a McDonald’s bag. Someone is trying to set me up.”

  “We’ve been all concerned about your disappearance. We believed your remains were in the barrel we found.”

  “I don’t know what more I can say to assure you that I didn’t have anything to do with Wilber’s murder.”

  “I’m sorry, but we all need to go back to Tawas. Sheriff Peterson will be very interested in these developments.”

  Chapter 17

  Sheriff Peterson sighed when I filled him in about Faith, who was sitting in one of his interview rooms. “I’m glad to hear that Faith isn’t missing, but who is the woman you found in the barrel?”

  “I don’t know, but it sure appears that Wilber had some dark secrets, ones that might have led to his death,” Peterson said. “Get back with your son, Agnes. I’d like to know if he’s found out anything about those missing hitchhikers.”

  “I can’t believe Faith found Wilber’s body and didn’t report it,” I said.

  “Don’t worry, I’ll sort it out. Let me just say that both Darrell and Faith will be my guests for at least the next twenty-four hours. Hopefully by then I can find out Darrell’s real identity. I’ve heard the ‘my twin stole my identity” story more than a few times.”

  “It sounded like a stretch to me too, but apparently the owners of Neiman’s seemed to believe Darrell was exactly who he claimed to be.”

  We followed the sheriff to the interview room. “You two have been very helpful, but I’ll be taking over now,” Peterson said.

  I smiled. “We know that, but where were you off to earlier? Your deputies had the road Wilber lived on blocked off.”

  “We had a report that a light was on in Wilber’s house.”

  “We saw Wilber’s children on the property.”

  “Well, they weren’t there when we checked out the place. I had the house boarded up, so that should deter anyone from getting back inside.”

  “I thought you’d already done that.”

  “Apparently not good enough. I had extra boards put up to cover the patio door.”

  “Oh, that’s good.” I forced a smiled as I frowned on the inside. That would also keep us out of the house.

  “Have you figured out where that money came from yet, Peterson?” Eleanor asked.

  “Not yet, but hopefully Faith is in a talking mood.”

  “Good luck. We certainly couldn’t get anything out of her,” I said.

  At least someone else wasn’t killed at Wilber’s house,” Eleanor said when we were back on the road.

  “I thought that too when the road was blocked off like that. Well, that or a fire. Crime scenes have been known to be set on fire.”

  “That would complicate matters for us if we wanted to br
eak into Wilber’s house.”

  “I’m glad we’re friends, Eleanor. You’re downright dangerous.”

  “I’m not saying we’d do it for real, but you never know.” She grinned.

  I pulled into the motel where Bernice’s children were staying. Callie answered the door and let us inside.

  Angelo sat on one of the beds with a noticeable frown. “So what brings you by?”

  I plopped down on the only chair. “We have a few more questions.”

  “Why did you let them in, Callie?”

  “Because I want to find out who murdered our father. And if it takes a few more questions from them, I’m willing to suffer through them.”

  The motel room was sparsely furnished, with two full-sized beds, a small television and a night table between the beds. It was apparent that Wilber’s children were keeping expenses low while they were in town.

  “It’s too bad you can’t stay at your father’s house,” I said.

  Callie’s face paled. “I don’t think I’d care to stay there after the way our father was murdered.”

  “You should be kinder to your mother. She might allow you to stay at her house.”

  “I don’t see that happening,” Callie said. “Not since her medical scare.”

  “You mean mini-stroke,” Eleanor said with cocked brow.

  “Is this why you’re here?” Angelo asked in irritation.

  “We couldn’t help but notice you were at your father’s house since his murder,” I said. “I couldn’t help but wonder why.”

  “We wanted to see the damage the police did to the property. When everything is settled we’ll have to sell the place.”

  I suppose that was right, but hearing Angelo say that had me thinking. “Did your father store any cash at his house?”

  Angelo laughed. “Cash no. Plenty of bills, though.”

  “So you admit you went into the house, possibly turned on a light?” Eleanor asked.

  “We did, but there wasn’t a need to turn on the lights. We could see where we were going thanks to the sheer curtains,” Angelo said. “Why?”

  “With the windows boarded up? Unless you removed a few to gain entrance into the house,” Eleanor said.

  “You probably should have covered your tracks and put the boards back up,” I said. “Sheriff Peterson went out to the house today after someone reported seeing a light. He had the house boarded up.”

  They both widened their eyes.

  I stood and stretched, giving the chair to Eleanor. “One last question. We finally caught up to the woman who delivered groceries to your father. Apparently she wasn’t missing after all. Anyway, she mentioned seeing a bloodstain on the carpet. We thought you might have something to say about it, Angelo,” I offered.

  “Why would I know?” he asked flippantly.

  “The woman also told us you visited your father every weekend.”

  “Visiting your father every weekend isn’t a crime. Most children rarely see their parents that much.”

  “As opposed to ignoring your mother.”

  “So you never noticed a bloodstain near the couch – or under it?” Eleanor asked.

  “I hardly rearranged the furniture when I stopped by.”

  “What about the carpet being replaced? You have anything to say about that?”

  “He might have had new carpeting installed, but Dad rarely threw anything out. I believe he might have laid the old carpeting on the basement floor. I imagine the sheriff could tell you more about the carpet than I can.”

  I helped Eleanor up. “Thank you again for answering our questions. I believe we’ll find out who murdered your father soon.”

  “Is it true that we’re close to finding the killer?” Eleanor asked once we were outside.

  “We might be, but we’ll need to tell the sheriff about the carpeting in the basement. For some reason I think he overlooked it.”

  “It might have been covered with junk. You know that’s how most basements are if they’re not finished.”

  My phone rang and Stuart’s voice came through the hands-free speaker. “Mother, drop whatever you’re doing. I need to see you in Detroit.”

  “Is that really necessary?”

  “Very.”

  “Why can’t you tell me what you found out?”

  “Believe me, you’ll want to come here. I’m not at liberty to remove the information from the office.”

  “You win. We’ll be there tomorrow morning.”

  Chapter 18

  Andrew dropped us at the FBI’s field office in Detroit, and Stuart walked out to greet us. He ushered us through the revolving metal door that was nearly too small for Eleanor’s frame. We surrendered our identification to the security officer, who took our photos and placed them on guest passes. We then walked through the elaborate metal detectors and were patted down.

  As we glided up the elevator, Eleanor and I refrained from speaking. I had to admit it was rather nerve wracking to be in the federal building, and from the look in Eleanor’s eye I knew she felt the same.

  We proceeded along the hallway when the elevator opened and into the records department. We made our way past row after row of locked file drawers that nearly reached the ceiling.

  “Those contain hardcopies of documents,” Stuart explained. “All the documents have been put into digital format and can be viewed from any office or at home.” Stuart frowned. “You don’t have access to do that, but I’ve been given permission for you to look over some of the missing persons cases pertaining to the missing hitchhikers,” Stuart said.

  I fished a small notebook from my purse and nodded as Eleanor and I followed Stuart into a side office with a large flat-screen attached to the wall. We sat around a half-moon table.

  Stuart used a remote control to turn the monitor on and his fingers flew across a keyboard until the images of four young women came on the screen. Maggie Bauer, Brenda Meier, Dawn Wagner and Betty Driscoll. All of them had blond hair and blue eyes.

  I quickly jotted down the names. “Could you give us some specifics?”

  “What timeframe did the women disappear?” Eleanor asked.

  “We were led to believe that Wilber was under investigation when his children were younger, which should make it about the late nineties or early two-thousands,” I said.

  Stuart shook his head. “What led you to believe that?”

  “Wilber’s daughter mentioned it, and she’s about twenty-five.”

  “The cases Wilber was a suspect in occurred in 1976.”

  I bit the inside of my cheek. “I wonder if Bernice was married to Wilber at that time.”

  “We’ll have to ask her when we get back to Tawas,” Eleanor said.

  “According to the files, Wilber Riley was twenty-eight when he came under suspicion,” Stuart said.

  “I’m not one-hundred percent certain, but Bernice must have been married to Wilber at that time,” I said. “How exactly did he come under suspicion?”

  “A white El Camino was spotted picking up female hitchhikers that resembled the missing woman on U.S. 23 between Greenbush and Alpena. Wilber owned the same model car.”

  “And worked as a traveling salesman there?” I asked.

  “Yes, and he wasn’t able to give a solid alibi at the time.”

  “If he worked in the area I imagine the police thought he was the likely suspect,” Eleanor said. “In those days cops were hungry to place the blame.”

  Stuart’s brow furrowed. “I don’t believe that was the case with the FBI involved.”

  “Were the bodies ever found?” I asked.

  “No. And believe me, the area was searched thoroughly.”

  “Why wasn’t Wilber ever arrested?” Eleanor asked.

  “He was taken in and questioned several times, but he wasn’t the only suspect.”

  “Did the other suspects also drive same model as Wilber?” I asked.

  “No, but that didn’t make them any less suspect. Even if an El Camino wa
s seen picking up hitchhikers, that doesn’t mean it was the killer’s vehicle. We have to assume at this point that the women are dead.”

  “So nobody was ever charged?”

  “Peter Swiss confessed, but the details he gave didn’t match what we know about the disappearances. He claimed he kidnapped and murdered the women in Grand Rapids.”

  “Maybe for another crime?”

  “So I imagine the case went cold,” Eleanor said.

  “Whatever happened to the man who confessed?” I asked.

  “Peter was killed by police during an armed robbery.”

  “In Grand Rapids?”

  Stuart nodded.

  “When was Wilber no longer considered a person of interest?”

  “Wilber was in the hospital when Betty Driscoll was reported missing.”

  “So he was taken off the suspect list.”

  “Not exactly, but his name certainly dropped to the bottom of the list. Has the coroner been able to identify the remains found in the barrel?”

  “We were told it would take more time -- unless you could make a call for us.”

  “Walter Smitty knows his job. And from what Sheriff Peterson tells me, the coroner has a hard time telling either of you no.”

  Stuart handed us bottled water from a small refrigerator. I sighed as I took a drink.

  “Have any of the victim’s families continued an interest in the case?” I asked.

  “Brenda Meier’s family called the FBI every year for an update -- up until a few years ago. They developed a close bond with Special Agent Miller. He died a few years back.”

  “Do you know their names?”

  Stuart typed again and said, “Lisa Spraggs. She lives in Standish.”

  I wrote down Lisa’s address and sighed. “We appreciate your help. Maybe Lisa will be able to help us -- unless you have the names of other family members who are still seeking justice.”

  “That’s all I have. I hope you’ll share any information you get from Ms. Spraggs. Please tell her we’re still working the case. I only wish there was more we could do to find the killer.”

  “The person responsible might be dead by now,” I suggested.

  “Maybe that’s why missing hitchhikers are no longer reported,” Eleanor added.