by M A Comley
With an irritated sigh, she threw back the covers and went into the kitchen to make something nice for dinner. A task she hoped would keep her busy for the rest of the afternoon. Her book, in its infancy, lay idle on her desk.
She’d just popped the large pan of lasagna into the oven and was buttering the garlic bread for later when there was a knock at the door. Lucy looked up to see Brendon standing there. “You should be keeping all your doors locked,” he commented.
“Damn, I forgot. Why does that tone in your voice make me feel worried?” Lucy stood there in her ruffled apron, her vulnerability on show.
Brendon crossed the room and hugged her. He kissed her forehead. “I want you to listen to me very carefully; but first, I want you to promise not to panic.”
Lucy tried to pull away, to look into his eyes and to read whether he was being serious or just teasing her. He clung on tight, refusing to let her go. “No, don’t pull away. Do as I say now. Promise me.”
“Okay, I promise. But please, get it over with quickly. You’re making me scared. Give it to me straight.”
“I’ve got evidence that links Mrs. Stiltson and you. I’m not telling you this to scare you, but I think you might be in danger.”
Lucy tried her best to jerk out of his grasp, but he held her fast. “No, Brendon, let me go. I can’t breathe.” Her anxiety suddenly notched up a level.
“Sorry.” He loosened his grip, and she slid out of his arms. Pushing her hair back with one hand, she leaned on the counter with the other, her mind racing faster than an Olympic sprinter.
“Don’t be scared,” he urged.
“I’m not. Not in the way you think. Whoever it was that came into my house that day, who left the pillow and the footprints–that’s who must be after me. Oh, my God, they could have killed me, then.”
Brendon’s eyebrows rose and he shrugged. “Maybe that was their intention when they locked you in the freezing attic.”
“Wait. Can’t you compare the evidence? You know, from the Stiltson crime scene to what I found around here? Wouldn’t that make it easy to track down the culprit?” She refused to pause, to let him get a word in and asked, “Who could possibly know both of us and have a motive to kill us?”
“That might not have been their objective, Lucy, to kill you. We’ve seen plenty of cases where it’s all about the power, and the killing only becomes necessary if the situation gets out of hand. The fact that you were up in the attic when they broke in might have saved your life. Mrs. Stiltson was asleep and unaware—at least, at first. We believe she woke up, there was a struggle, and that’s when the killer used what we believe is the same pillow you found behind your sofa, to smother her.”
Lucy froze. “The one I…” she faltered, not wishing to finish her sentence.
“Yes, that’s right. We found hair strands on the pillow that matched Mrs. Stiltson’s. Of course, we’ve sent it out to the state crime lab, but we’ve got some equipment back at the station and I called a medical professor from the university. He came by and confirmed what I suspected.”
“Why did you suspect?”
“Call it gut instinct. The timing made sense and I thought I recognized the pillow. I went back to the station and studied the crime scenes of both Sylvia and Mrs. Stiltson’s murders and…”
“But why? I didn’t even know Mrs. Stiltson.”
“Doesn’t mean there isn’t a connection. It just means we haven’t uncovered one quite yet. It’s out there. It’s up to us to find it; in the meantime, I want you safe. I don’t want you alone, but I can’t always be here to look after you. Is there someone you could stay with, or who could come and stay with you? Someone who you trust, but don’t suspect?”
“You mean not Sal.”
“I didn’t want to say it, but yes, not Sal. We need more time to work on ruling her out. Dan, too.”
Her shoulders sank. “I guess I could ask Jenny. Pretty sure we could get her chair through the door. The others are either married with responsibilities or, like Cecilia, they’re working.”
“What about Tina?”
Lucy laughed. “We’d kill each other by the end of the second day. Let me keep her on the back burner for now. I’ll ask Jenny. She’s a good friend, and always sticks close to me when we’re at Sal’s.”
“Okay, I’ll leave that up to you. I can’t stay, but you have my number. Keep all the doors and windows locked until your new roommate arrives—and even after they’re here. If you go to the store, both of you go, together. Stick to each other like glue, have you got that?”
“Okay. Jenny has an equipped van, so she’s completely mobile. I’ll give her a call right away.”
“Excellent.” He headed toward the door. “Oh, and Lucy. Tell her only the bare minimum. Enough so that she understands the concern, but no names or details. We have enough gossip to contend with at present.”
Lucy nodded. “Another reason I think she’s a good choice. She has very few friends outside of the group that meets up at Sal’s, and has a level head on her shoulders. She’ll understand why she can’t know everything.”
“Good enough. I’ll keep in touch. Be careful, I would post an officer here to watch over you but we’re short-staffed and with two murders to deal with…” He kissed her on the cheek.
“I’ll be fine. Don’t worry.”
Then he was gone.
Lucy locked the door, quickly assessed the width of it, checked the windows, and then sat down to call her friend. Once she explained the situation, Jenny accepted the mission with delight. “Let me throw some things together and I’ll be right over.”
“Thank you so much, Jenny. My front door will accommodate the chair. I’ve measured it.”
“We’ll work it out, Lucy. Shall I bring a cot?”
“No, no, I’m sleeping on the sofa. I nap there all the time. It’s quite comfortable. You’ll have my room.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive. See you soon.”
While she waited for Jenny to arrive, Lucy idly shuffled notes for her book, all the while running possible names through her head.
Who would want me dead?
She couldn’t think of any possible candidates who she’d angered or perturbed, with the possible exception of Cecilia, but she was too busy with her rescue to be that evil. No, Cecilia was far too obvious to even be considered.
Lucy removed clean sheets from the linen closet and set about straightening up her room for Jenny’s visit. She had just tossed the dirty sheets into the hamper when she caught sight of a high-top van pulling into the drive. It was Jenny’s.
“Hi,” Lucy opened the front door and raced outside to help Jenny in with her stuff. Raucous laughter could be heard coming from Marnie’s house. Thrilled someone sounds happy, at least!
“I’m so glad to be here.” Jenny lowered the window and smiled broadly. “Hang on. I’ll drop the ramp.”
Laughter sounded close behind her. Lucy looked over her shoulder to see Marnie headed her way. A snowball whizzed by Lucy’s head.
“Whew!” chirped Jenny. “She looks determined.”
Lucy laughed. “She’s rediscovering life. Before you put the ramp down, why don’t I grab my purse and treat us to coffee and donuts down at Sal’s?”
“Okay. That sounds perfect. Look out!” Jenny shouted as yet another snowball whooshed past Lucy’s shoulder.
Lucy searched for a nearby mound of snow and formed her own snowball. She turned quickly and aimed it behind her. What she hadn’t anticipated was Marnie moving. Unfortunately, Lucy’s snowball caught Winnie square between the eyes.
“Agh!” Winnie’s grin had disappeared, and anger contorted her features. Lucy stiffened as she saw Winnie’s expression and then, as soon as it appeared, it was gone again, replaced by a forced smile. “Sorry, it just took me by surprise, Lucy. Marnie is so excited, and we got carried away.”
Lucy raised her hand, palm out. “Don’t worry. No problem. I shouldn’t have thrown it.�
� Over her shoulder, she called to Jenny, “I’ll be right back.”
Lucy ran inside the house to retrieve her coat and purse. She came back out, locked the door and then tested it. Walking around to the far side of Jenny’s van, she opened the door and got in. “All set. Let’s go.”
They chatted on the way about what was going on. Just as Brendon had advised, Lucy kept things to a minimum. “I can’t be alone right now. I don’t think anyone would dare bother me with your van also parked in the drive. You’re downright intimidating, you know that?” she laughed.
“What the heck?”
Lucy fell silent as they drew into the special parking spot in front of Sal’s Sweets. The café was in darkness and there was a bright pink sign on the door which read, “Closed for Vacation.”
Jenny began, “Did you…?”
“No. Not a word. And from the look of things, neither did they,” she said, pointing to Grace and Pauline who had just parked in an adjacent slot and got out of the car.
Lucy lowered the window to the van and shouted, “Did you know?”
Pauline shook her head. “Not a whisper. Do you suppose everything is okay? That’s not like them to disappear without saying a word to anyone. And that sign is scrawled, like someone wrote it in a hurry.”
Grace nodded. “That’s what I thought, too.”
“Would either of you let me know if you hear anything?” Lucy asked.
The women both nodded, their expressions puzzled as they turned around and peered inside the café once again.
“Huh. Intriguing, eh? What do you suppose this is all about?” Jenny wanted to know.
“I don’t have a clue. Let’s take a run out to that Roadside Café on the highway instead. We’ll just sneak in for a little dinner–my treat–and listen. People might be gossiping, and with this place unavailable, that’s where they’d likely end up. Sal will be upset if she ever finds out, but it isn’t like we have other options open to us right now. Maybe there’ll be someone out there who knows where Sal and Dan are. The curiosity will kill us if we don’t find out.” As soon as the words left her mouth, she regretted them.
Jenny put the van into drive and pulled away from the curb as yet another car drew up in Sal’s parking lot and the man got out of the car and peered through the glass.
Once they arrived at the Roadside Café, Lucy held the door open, allowing Jenny to wheel herself inside. They chose a table off to the left, near the door to the kitchen. Lucy knew it was the best location when you were looking for information.
A young girl with a sallow complexion and dirty apron breathed heavily as she brought them menus and water in scratched, cloudy, plastic glasses. “What can I get you?” she sniffed, and glanced over her shoulder at the influx of new customers coming through the front door. “Pete, I need some help out here,” she shouted toward the kitchen.
Pete was lanky, and tended to stoop as he loped through the swinging doors, his giraffe-like figure surveying the dining room for the new arrivals as they hitched off their jackets and slung them over the back of their chairs. It was a party of four well-dressed men and Lucy saw his eyes roll.
“Think you can at least get them some water and menus?” the waitress barked in his direction.
“Yep.” He tucked a handful of menus under his arm and his long fingers grasped the rims of six glasses. Lucy thought he might have been a useful basketball player, had he been more athletic.
“Burger and fries okay with you, Jenny?” Lucy asked. What the Roadside Café lacked in ambiance and waitstaff was more than made up by their signature Roadside Burgers. Roughly the size of a dessert plate, the hamburger was die-cut from a slab of ground beef—just the right mixture of fresh, bloody meat and fat. Once sizzled on the grill to perfection, it was slapped onto a matching sized bun already thickly coated with spicy mustard and thick dill lying upon a bed of onion. Truckers had been known to drive fifty miles out of their way to get one, if the gossip could be trusted.
At Jenny’s nod, the waitress snatched back the menus and merely shouted “two” over the saloon doors as she toddled off with the coffee decanter to refill the cups of a couple of burly men in plaid shirts seated in the corner.
“This is disappointing,” Lucy grumbled, shoving her scarf down the sleeve of her jacket so it wouldn’t slip onto the dirty floor.
“Why?”
“I only see a couple of people I know from town and they’re not exactly the type who gossip,” she said, nodding toward three men in a booth who were bent over their plates like hogs at a trough, wiping away excess mustard and grease with their sleeves.
“You were hoping to find out more about Sal, right?”
Lucy nodded.
“I agree that it’s strange they disappeared without warning, but maybe something cropped up. I guess they don’t owe anyone advance warning.”
“True,” Lucy said, her voice tinged with disappointment. Not wanting to raise Jenny’s suspicions further, she smiled and asked, “Tell me what’s new in your life, Jenny?” She settled back with half an ear panning the conversations around them.
“Oh, nothing, really. But then, in my life, that’s more or less the norm. I’m thinking about taking an online course in mortuary science,” she stated.
“That’s nice,” Lucy responded automatically, her gaze constantly surveying the other diners.
“Oi you! You’re not listening to me. What is it, Lucy? You know, a problem shared is only half as bad.”
That caught Lucy’s attention, and she snapped back to see the disappointment written on Jenny’s face. “You’re right, I’m sorry. It’s not fair for me to ask you for a favor and not give you the full picture.”
“Okay…” Jenny prompted. “Then what’s going on?”
“This can’t go any further, if Brendon ever found out I told you, he’d crucify me.”
“I swear I won’t say anything. Go on.”
She fiddled with the salt shaker on the table as she spoke. “There have been some strange things happening at my house in the last few days.”
Jenny’s eyes widened. “Strange? In what way strange?”
“In ways that could indicate someone means me harm.”
Jenny’s eyebrows rose as concern crept into her soft brown eyes. “What on earth did they do?”
Lucy drew in a deep breath. “I went into the attic for something and while I was up there, someone came into my house and pushed up the attic stairs. They locked me in, and I couldn’t get out.”
Jenny nodded and contemplated her response. “Did you leave your front door open? Is it possible that they stopped by without waiting for you to answer the door and then just pushed up the drop-down stairs, thinking it had accidentally come down?”
“I don’t think that was possible. I called out as soon as I heard someone in the house. They didn’t answer me and left without a trace.”
“I see. What does Brendon say?”
“Brendon, for his own reasons that he can’t talk about, wanted to be on the safe side and suggested I ask someone to stay with me for a few days.”
Jenny visibly tensed up. Lucy reached across the table to pat her hand. “Oh, don’t worry. I’m sure we’ll be safe. If he thought there was any real danger, he would’ve ordered a female officer to stay with me. He would have volunteered to stay with me himself except he’s tied up with another case at the moment.” Lucy intentionally left out the part about the two by four because that could lead to ramifications involving Sal, and she preferred to keep those thoughts to herself.
Jenny’s posture relaxed as she sat back in her chair. “Oh, well… that makes sense.”
At that moment, the waitress arrived with a tray and put their plates in front of them. She sniffed. “Anything else I can bring you?”
Lucy smiled tautly. “No, we’re fine. Thanks.”
The waitress moved on, leaving Lucy and Jenny to their feast.
They picked up their knives to cut the giant burgers in half and pluc
ked a handful of napkins from the rusted dispenser to mop up the excess grease. They tucked in, both needing to periodically lick their fingers as the juices ran down their hands. “Have you ever considered how far we’ve come that our favorite foods are eaten by hand. Sandwiches, cookies, muffins…” Lucy said, after swallowing a mouthful of meat.
“Candy. Don’t forget candy,” Jenny added.
Lucy munched and let her gaze travel the room again. She skipped over the newcomers as they were giving their orders, but then her gaze suddenly came back to them. The waitress moved away and was pulling at the neckline of her uniform, a half-smile on her face.
“What’s wrong? Your eyebrows went up.”
“Shh… tell you later,” Lucy quickly whispered, her gaze drifting back to the diners. There was one man in particular who drew her attention; he looked very familiar. She tried her hardest to place how she knew him. He shifted in his seat, looking out of place in his surroundings. Suddenly, it came to her. “Jenny, have you ever had an appointment with Dr. Stiltson?”
“You mean the doctor whose wife died?”
Lucy nodded.
“Yes, a few times, although it was a while ago. Mother took me to him for a consultation on my legs. Why?”
“When you get a chance, look across the room. There are four men sitting at a table. They look the teeniest bit overdressed for a place like this.”
“Hmm… oh, yes, I see them. What about them?”
“Any of them look familiar?”
“Oh, I don’t know. They tend to all look alike, you know.”
“Oh, never mind. It’s nothing, probably my overactive imagination playing another trick on me.”
“No—no—now wait. The one, on the far side but closest to the door. Yes, that’s him. Dr. Stiltson. That’s what you were thinking, too, right?”
“I just wasn’t sure.”
“Why? Why is it important to you, Lucy?”
“It’s just that we haven’t seen him down at Sal’s in a long time.”
“You know what? You’re right. We haven’t. Maybe it’s because people are whispering about him behind his back. Perhaps that’s why he chose to come to a more out-of-the-way place, like this. I don’t think he did it, Lucy. I really don’t.”
