“Doesn’t exactly sound like the type who would use trickery like curses to make her point,” Carter said, staring me down as he said it.
“I didn’t say she did,” I shot back, my annoyance growing. “But you can’t just ignore the fact that she was the last one to see Archibald and Bette Hastings. And if the curse is a weapon, like Murray suggested, then she was the one with the motive to bring it back to secure the vote for the casino. The pretty girl isn’t always innocent—haven’t you ever seen a James Bond movie?”
“I wouldn’t expend too much energy in figuring out the source of the other night’s escapades—it’s really insignificant in the big picture,” Murray said.
“So you don’t believe that it’s connected to what happened to Archibald?” I asked.
“Oh, it’s very much connected. But it’s just another brick in a wall that dates back two hundred years. The next important moment in the war will be the one that sparks the battle to tear that wall down. So the important question in this matter is: who or what will be the Archduke Ferdinand of Rockfield?”
Carter nodded. “Whose assassination set off the chain of events that started World War I.”
“I didn’t know you were such a history buff,” Murray said, looking pleasantly surprised.
“Just military history—my father drilled it into me. We used to get into the car every summer, and hit different sites … Revolutionary War, Civil War, battleships, you name it.”
“Since John Pierpont has introduced the gut instinct to the conversation, mine tells me that the tension has ratcheted to boiling point, and this town will have its Archduke moment in the near future. Then we can only hope it doesn’t turn into an all-out war.”
“If you believe that, why not say something? You do have a newspaper at your disposal,” Carter challenged.
“When I entered semi-retirement, I gave the new editor final say on content, and she believes I’m being overly dramatic on this subject. So I was outvoted,” Murray replied.
And when I looked up, that editor was heading our way.
Chapter 20
When it comes to our relationship, Gwen believes in getting things out in the open—never hold stuff in, never go to bed mad. This included my trips to jail.
Carter and Murray wanted no part of such open dialogue, and made a beeline to the tray of food that was fresh off the barbecue.
“I wanted to get your opinion,” she said upon reaching me, smug grin in tow. “We’ve narrowed it down to three possible headlines.”
I would play along. Fighting it would be like quicksand—the harder you battle, the worse your situation gets.
“Allison’s idea was to go with Three Stooges, and have your faces Photoshopped on the real Stooges, but wearing striped jailhouse attire.”
“Not bad—but there might be some rights issues involved.”
“Murray came up with Fair Leaves Town, Circus Arrives.”
“I like it, but a little wordy—it might work better as the opening line of the story.”
“Well, since I have final approval of content, I’ve decided to go with J-News Goes to J-ail. Unless you would prefer one of the others.”
“As always, I trust your judgment.”
“But it was your good judgment, not unleashing your foolery until after we went to print, which gave us the time to come up with a worthy headline. So I’m indebted to you.”
I smiled. “I’ve always said that we make a great team.”
“The only negative has been Maloney’s camp badgering me all morning, claiming I purposely sat on the story to protect my boyfriend, who happens to be his pretend political rival. They demanded that we run a special afternoon version to make up for it.”
“I’m guessing that didn’t go over well with the paper’s editor.”
“Even if we wanted to do such a thing, we don’t have the funds … not even close. But I did remind them that while my relationship with you would never affect my journalistic integrity, I do have influence over you in other ways—as in, I could convince you that it was in your best interests to enter the election.”
“And the Maloney response was?”
“Not acceptable for children to hear.”
“I say print it as big and bold as possible in tomorrow’s edition. My only request is that you leave Byron out of it. It wasn’t his idea, and if it goes viral, it could hurt his foundation. Plus, I think he’s in bigger trouble with Tonya than I originally suspected, and I don’t think this will help.”
“What about Carter?”
“He’d be disappointed if he was left out.”
“Well, I hate to disappoint, but I’m not sure it’s front-page-worthy. The charges were dropped, and I talked to a spokesman for the Hastings family who called it a ‘misunderstanding.’ No official booking took place, so you don’t even have an embarrassing mugshot we could print. And there’s not even a police report to prove it happened.”
“Ironic, since we were accused of trespassing on the property of Bette Hastings. And there’s no police report from the night of her accident.”
She flashed an a-ha look. “So that’s what this is all about. It couldn’t just be a teenage prank because that doesn’t fit JP Warner’s grandiose vision of the world, and his place in it. It must be connected to some unsolved mystery fifty years in the making.”
“You also doubted me about my brother’s death.”
“When I want to know about history, I go to your mother. When I seek revisionist history, I go to you. I was two steps ahead of you on that case, which was why I was working undercover with Officer Jones. You weren’t the only one to suspect him, or the first.”
I hate when she’s right. And by “undercover” she was referring to pretending to be his girlfriend, which still got under my skin. “I am confident that the incident at the bridge goes beyond a teenage prank.” And because I needed a shot of credibility, I added, “Murray believes it’s connected to the long battle between the Samerauks and the Hastings.”
“And of course you two have evidence to back up your claims.”
“I found a dead bird buried in a shoebox.”
I left out the part about the earring—our relationship might be built on total honesty, but when it came to our reporting, everything was fair game.
Her expression turned incredulous. “Why didn’t you say so? That’s a two-pack a day smoking gun right there.”
“Now it’s your turn,” I said.
“My turn for what?”
“I can tell you’re holding something back—you seem mighty confident it’s a hoax.”
“Let’s just say I’ve found a couple of little birdies of my own … and they’re very much alive.”
We’d arrived at an impasse. Neither of us was ready to share what we’d found out, so we were going to have to put work aside and actually enjoy the splendid holiday. I viewed the picnic—observing guests chowing down burgers and hot dogs, along with my mother’s famous potato salad. Volleyball and horseshoe games were going on. Little kids were laughing, while tweens were brooding—I noticed a particular iciness between Ella and Gracie, a continuation from the other day. She was also avoiding me, as I think I was still being held responsible for messing up her pre-teen pre-love-life.
“It’s nice to finally spend some time alone with you,” I said.
“It is. Although, a little sad that we have to come to a Labor Day picnic to be able to do so.” She then flashed a devious look—I love that look. “I’ve got an idea of how we could get some more alone time. But it’s going to require your help.”
“I’m all ears.”
“I was thinking that maybe if you get Allison out of my place, I can do the same for you, with Carter and Byron.”
“If she’s your friend, why can’t you just be straight with her?”
“Because she’s my friend—I love her to death. Just like you would never boot Carter and Byron out because they’re your friends, and you’re loyal. But I hav
e no loyalty to Carter, just like you have no loyalty to Allison.”
“So it would be like Strangers on a Train?”
“Yes, but without the murder. We’ve had enough murder this past year.”
Truer words never spoken. “Nothing says true friendship like plotting their eviction behind their backs?”
“We’d actually be helping them out.”
“And how exactly would we be doing that?”
“I figured you could use your connections to get Allison a much more stable and higher paying job in the area than at the Gazette. So besides the fact that she won’t be driving me crazy at work anymore, she will have the stability to be able to settle in here, and just as importantly, get a better place to live than with me and my dad.
“And while you’re doing that, I will be able to get Byron back to Charleston and moving toward wedding bliss. And if Carter doesn’t get back to work soon he’s going to go insane, and for him, work means traveling the world searching for danger. So they will all be better off, and it will leave you and me with the place all to ourselves.”
I viewed the landscape, and focused in on Allison. She once again seemed quite chummy with Dr. Will MacDougal. “I don’t think I’ll have to work very hard on Allison—looks like she might be in need of some privacy of her own very soon.”
“Oh stop—they’re just friendly neighbors. Besides, it’s way too early for her to move on. I still hear her crying herself to sleep at night.”
“You never know. Some people are just genetically programmed to be in a relationship. I’ve had friends who went through a brutal divorce, or lost their wife after a long illness, and before you can bat an eye they’re getting hitched again. It takes me longer to plan a first date.”
“I guess I’m not one of those people. After I got divorced, the last thing I ever wanted to do was to get married again … and if you recall, I had an attractive offer to do so from a certain serial killer.”
I had tried to forget about the night Grady Benson proposed to her out on his sailboat. My stomach is still in my throat, just thinking about how lucky she was. But after her words at the fair, maybe she would have preferred him to throw her overboard than ask her to marry him.
Gwen grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the party. “C’mon, JP—let’s go get you a cheeseburger. A man can’t live on prison food alone.”
I went along, but I’d suddenly lost my appetite.
Chapter 21
Tuesday
“I have a ten o’clock appointment with Dr. MacDougal,” Allison Cooper said.
“And which Dr. MacDougal is that?” the receptionist replied.
Allison laughed to herself, still trying to get used to the fact that there was now two of them. For so many years Doc Mac was the only show in town.
“Dr. Will MacDougal.”
The receptionist marked it down and sent Allison to a waiting room to do the usual “hurry up and wait” dance. But it did allow her to catch her thoughts after an emotionally draining morning. She’d heard parents talk about that moment you put your kids on the school bus for the first time. But living in the city, she’d always walked Gracie and Chase to school, so she’d never gone through the experience … until this morning. And since her kids had been in school for years, she didn’t think it would affect her. She couldn’t have been more wrong.
Once the bus was out of sight, the dam broke and she cried like a baby. This one small act of her children boarding a bus in Rockfield encapsulated every painful step along their journey—one that would have been unfathomable just six months ago. It was still pretty hard to believe.
It was Gwen’s idea to take a couple of weeks in the country, get out of the city, and try to stagger to their feet following the ultimate body blow—Marty’s death. But something happened upon their return to Rockfield. A sense of comfort came over her, and for the first time since that FBI agent had delivered her the crippling news, she could actually envision a future. Every bone in her body told her the right move was to stay, but that didn’t mean it would be an easy sell.
Gracie had arrived in Rockfield kicking and screaming—she was a city girl, and spending the summer away from the only home she’d ever known was just not going to happen. But as the weeks turned into a couple more weeks, Gracie began to take to it. She started making friends, and warmed to the idea of being the big fish in the small pond. Not to mention, the boys were fighting for the right to win stuffed animals for her. What was there not to like!?
A few weeks back, she slipped into Allison’s bed in the spare room of the Delaney’s house, and whispered, “Mom, I don’t want to go home.” Allison pulled her close, and said, “I think we are home, sweetie.”
Chase would be much easier to convince. He always followed Gracie’s lead—if she wanted to stay, then he was on board. Plus, he’d built a close friendship with Gwen’s brother, Tommy. Allison still couldn’t believe that Gwen had a brother the same age as her son, but life is all about surprises. Sometimes they’re the good kind—other times you get hit with a sledgehammer. But either way, you never see them coming.
The only solution was to stay busy, and with two kids that wasn’t going to be a problem. And whatever spare time she could muster, she put in at the Rockfield Gazette, which was her way of trying to repay Gwen for all she’d done for them this summer. She still couldn’t believe a newspaper in today’s age didn’t have an online presence. How. Was. That. Possible!? Marty had left them on a solid footing financially, but she would soon have to find a paying job and get a place of their own. And do so before they totally drove Gwen nuts, which they were, even though her friend was too sweet to say so.
“Allison Cooper,” a voice startled her out of her thoughts. She looked up from the outdated magazine she’d been pretending to read to see a nurse holding a clipboard.
When she stood, another voice arose from behind the nurse, and this one she recognized. “I’ll take this one, Elise.”
The nurse happily handed the clipboard to Doc Mac. He was still the tall, slender man she’d remembered. The only noticeable difference was the white, fluffy mustache he was now sporting. Her first visit to his office was the result of her attempt to keep up with her skateboard-riding brothers at age six. She was actually pretty good at riding it—it was the stopping part she struggled with. Good thing that telephone pole was there to knock her out. Of course, Doc Mac made it all better … and she got a lollipop!
She hurried to Doc and gave him hug. He then led her down a hallway. “From what I hear, you cut up your hand pretty good. All growing up means, is the cuts get deeper and bruises get bigger,” he said with his usual comforting smile.
She held up her bandaged hand. “Getting the stitches out today.”
“I can vouch for the doctor who’s doing it, but then again, a father is always biased.”
“Will is a very good doctor, and a friendly neighbor. You should be very proud.”
“I am—very much so,” he gushed as they arrived at the door of an examination room. When they stepped into the privacy of the room his voice turned serious. “How are you doing with things?”
She shrugged. “Getting by—day by day. The kids keep me busy.”
He nodded. “Good. There’s something about this town that has always brought me a feeling of peace, so I hope it does the same for you.”
“I didn’t think that when I was younger, but I’m starting to understand.”
“When I was living in Boston, if anyone would have predicted that I’d move back to this one-horse town, and spend the next forty years here, I’d have called them crazy. But it was the smartest thing I ever did.”
Allison had a hard time picturing Doc Mac anywhere but here. The place just wouldn’t have been the same without him. “Dr. MacDougal will be with you shortly,” he said with a wink, and left her alone.
She took a seat on the exam table and nervously waited. About ten minutes later, Will burst into the room with his usual energy. When
he looked at her, she saw a replica of the man who treated her for the skateboarding accident some thirty years ago.
“So how’d it go sending the kids off to school?” he asked.
“I cried.”
He began to examine her hand. “Well, I will do my best with this to make sure it’s only a one-cry morning.”
She smiled. “I’m going to hold you to that.”
“It’s the least I can do for that wonderful dinner you made for me after the fair on Saturday.”
“That’s what neighbors are for. But before we get too crazy, it was just a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.”
“Just? That happened to be the best peanut butter and jelly sandwich I’ve ever eaten. I’ll have to return the favor some time.”
“And he cooks too … wow.”
“Actually I can’t cook a lick. But I’m good at ordering out.”
They laughed, before he got down to the business of removing the stitches. “This advice might go outside my medical training, but maybe you should think about carrying a spare key. Or I can teach you how to pick a lock.”
Her story was that she was in a rush to pick up her kids, but she locked her keys in her car. So she panicked and attempted to open it the old fashioned way—by smashing it in.
The part about the car window was accurate, but not much else. She’d come out of a store after completing an errand and found a parking ticket stuck to her windshield. As she read its details, specifically how much she would owe, Marty popped into her head. She could hear his constant nagging about what a money-pit owning a car in the city was, like he was standing next to her. How much they paid to store it in that garage each month, even though they rarely used it—it would be cheaper to just rent a car when we need it, Al.
Psycho Hill (JP Warner Book 3) Page 9
