by Tim Myers
Erin shivered. “Sometime warm, maybe.”
“It is getting chilly, isn’t it? Let’s go downstairs. I’ll make us some coffee.”
I turned the flashlight on and led her back to the scuttle. “Do you have any hot chocolate?” she asked once we were back in my apartment.
“You’d better believe it. I’ve even got marshmallows,” I said with a smile.
After we had our cocoa, Erin said, ‘This was fun. I enjoy hanging out with you, Harrison.”
“Thanks, I needed this more than I realized.” I walked her to her car, and she surprised me by giving me a peck on the cheek. “Call me any time, Harrison.”
When I walked back upstairs, I found Markum leaning against my door. The accordion folder we’d retrieved from Becka’s apartment was sitting on top of a box he had tucked under one arm.
I asked, “How long have you been here?”
“Not long enough to matter. I saw you had company so I waited until she was gone. Are you ready to do some more digging?”
The calm ease I’d felt with Erin drained quickly away, but I knew I owed it to Becka to find out what had really happened to her. “I’m ready.”
We walked in the apartment and I picked up the
coffee mugs Erin and I had used for our cocoa. “Do you want anything?” I asked.
“No, I’m good. Listen, I’m sorry to do this to you. I know you’ve had the mother of all bad days, but our only chance here is to jump on this before the trail gets too cold.”
“I agree,” I said. “So what’s in the box?”
He put the folder to one side and brought out a woman’s handbag. I recognized it as Becka’s. “Where did you find that?”
“It was in the water a thousand yards downstream from the overlook. I got soaked getting it, but it was worth it.”
He opened it and pulled out an envelope. “Look at that”
It was addressed to Becka. Despite the water damage, I could read enough of the return address to see that it was from Washington, D.C., but the name of the agency had been torn off the corner. I opened the envelope, not sure what I was hoping to find, but it was empty. Then I flipped it over and saw a brief note scrawled in Becka’s handwriting. The last few words were smudged and the first part was obscured by a smear of mud. All I could make out for sure was the single word “land.” As a clue, it wasn’t much use. If she’d used a pen I might still be able to read it, but the pencil lead had been blurred almost beyond recognition during its submersion. “Sony, there’s not enough here to do us much good.”
I had a thought and said, “Wait a second, I’ll be right back.” I retrieved the photo fragment I’d found on her dresser mirror and handed it to him as I said, “Maybe they’re connected in some way. Could she have been asking someone about this barrel? But how do we find out what they said?”
Markum studied the photo, then said, “The postmark on the envelope is two weeks before the date on the back of the picture.”
I felt deflated. “So they’re not related.”
“Maybe, maybe not. Can I have this? I’ve got a guy who does me favors on occasion, and he might be able to give us something more than we’re seeing here.”
“Sure, be my guest.” I took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. “This isn’t going to be easy, is it?”
Markum said, “Patience, Harrison. We have to gather as many pieces of the puzzle as we can before we can figure out what really happened to her.”
I leaned forward and snagged the purse. It had a mildewed smell to it and I could feel some kind of slime on it Becka was fastidious about her appearance—the state of her apartment notwithstanding—and I knew it would have infuriated her to see her purse like that. Instead of getting sadder, it only fueled my anger. Somebody was going to pay for what they’d done to her.
I started going through her purse with new determination. There was a grocery list there, her checkbook, half a dozen makeup items and an odd assortment of things that collect in the bottom of some women’s purses. I found another telephone number—this one written in permanent ink on the back of a deposit slip—so I dialed it and was startled to hear Greg Runion answer.
I hung up the telephone, and Markum asked, “What was that all about?”
“I found a phone number in Becka’s purse, so I dialed it. It was Runion.”
“The developer? Why would Becka have his number in her purse?”
I scratched my head, then laid the paper aside. “I’m not sure, but it’s something we need to look into.” I studied the contents of her purse for a few more minutes, then asked, “So what’s missing here?”
“I don’t know, I was hoping you would.”
“Her car keys aren’t here. Did you see her car anywhere near the overlook? She didn’t walk, that’s for sure; it’s too far from town.”
Markum nodded. “You’re right. There were no cars in the parking area when I went there to look around. Why don’t you call your buddy the sheriff and see if he’s looked for her car?”
At least it was something. “I’ll give it a shot, but I don’t know if he’ll tell me anything.”
“You’ve got a better chance of finding out than I do,” Markum said.
I dialed the sheriff’s office, and after going through the switchboard, I reached Morton himself. “This is Harrison Black. I need to ask you something.”
“Harrison, I’ve got a hit-and-run that’s driving me nuts. Some guy got mowed over by a car on the city limits boundary. Half of him is in Micah’s Ridge and the other half is on county property. They’re out there now trying to figure out where most of the man’s body is lying. Make it quick.”
“Where’s Becka’s car?” I asked.
“Come on, it was a suicide.”
“She didn’t walk from town, Sheriff. Becka wouldn’t do that So how did she get out there, and where’s her vehicle?”
He said curtly, ‘I’m going to tell you, but only because
of the day you’ve had. We found her vehicle at the overlook. The keys were in it and the engine was still running. I know Micah’s Ridge is a small town, but I’m still surprised nobody stole it Now will you drop this? She killed herself.”
I wanted to say something else when the telephone connection ended.
“What did he say?” Markum asked.
‘They found the car with the engine still running at the overlook.” •
Markum frowned. “I’m sure that just reinforces his belief that it was suicide.”
“Not for me, it doesn’t” I said. “Becka wouldn’t leave her car running like that. She used to give me grief about running my truck in the winter to warm it up. Over the last six months, she’d developed a real environmental conscience.”
“And if he’d stayed on the line long enough for you to tell him that I’m sure the sheriff would have said that she wasn’t in her right frame of mind, or she never would have killed herself in the first place. For every new bit of information we find, there’s a way he can turn it around on us. I’m not all that surprised that we’re not going to be getting any help from him.”
“So why do you believe me?” I asked.
It looked like he thought about it then said, “Your gut tells you it was murder. I’m going with that.”
“Good enough,” I said. “I’m not wrong about this.”
“I never thought you were. Now what are we going to do about it?”
I reached for the accordion folder and said, “We keep digging.”
Chapter 6
After an hour of searching through her personal papers, I was ready to call it a night “There’s nothing here that shouldn’t be,” I said.
Markum nodded. “I’ve got to agree with you about that So what did we miss?”
“I don’t follow you.”
“Those two suits weren’t at Becka’s searching for decorating tips. Is there anything we found that they might have been looking for?”
“What about the message on the answering m
achine?” I asked. “Could they be working for the guy we heard?”
Markum nodded. “You could be right So then who is our mystery man?”
“I don’t even have a guess. Have you talked to your friend about the tape?”
“He’s not going to be able to help after all,” Markum said. “I’m going to get a Coke.”
I’ll grab one for you, I’m thirsty myself. So what happened, is your friend out of town?”
Markum shrugged. “That’s as good a euphemism as any. He’s in jail.”
“You know the most interesting people.” I grabbed two Cokes and handed him one.
“You don’t know the half of it. It looks like we’re on our own with the tape. I should have taken her answering machine, too; I don’t have anything that will play that size tape.”
“I’ve got a handheld tape recorder around here somewhere. Don’t they take the same size tapes as those old machines?”
Markum said, “I never thought of that. Get your tape player and I’ll go get the tape.”
After we met back in the living room, I held out my hand. “Let me try it.”
“It won’t work,” he said as he handed me the tape.
I didn’t even have to try it; he was clearly, right about the tape’s size. That wasn’t our only problem, though. The tape was heavier than it should have been. I held it up to my nose and sniffed, then realized that it had gotten wet.
Markum looked disgusted. “I had it with me when I went after Becka’s purse. It was a stupid mistake, Harrison. I’m sorry. I don’t even know if it’s still any good.”
“Don’t be so hard on yourself. It wasn’t a mistake, it was an accident. There still might be something we can hear.”
“So what do we do?”
“We go out and get a machine that will play it”
He took a deep breath, then said, “Do you really think there’s hope for it?”
The only way we’ll know is if we try.”
I saw Markum smile, so I quickly added, “I’m not breaking back into Becka’s, even if we do have a key.”
“Do you honestly think the Community Watch is working this late at night? If Morton even bothered with a stakeout, his deputies are probably long gone. Come on, we can be in and out in five minutes.”
“Are you serious?”
“What did you have in mind, going to Hickory to Best Buy and listening to it on one of their machines? That’s just a wee bit suspicious, wouldn’t you say?”
“And breaking back into Becka’s isn’t?”
I grabbed my coat and he asked, “So where are you going?”
“If we’re going to do this, let’s get it over with before I change my mind.”
“That’s the spirit, Harrison. I’ll make a salvage man out of you yet”
“Thanks, but no thanks. After this, I’m sticking to candlemaking.”
Markum said, “I suspect that’s the wisest thing you can do, but just think about the fun you’re missing.”
Driving through the darkened streets of Micah’s Ridge with just the lights from the dash illuminating us, I felt like a spy on a dangerous mission.
Markum must have sensed my mood. “There’s nothing like it, is there?” he asked.
“Do you do this a lot?”
There was a pause, then he said, “Harrison, I get as much joy out of the hunt as I do actually achieving my objectives. How many people get to do something they love these days?”
“I do,” I said. “I never knew what I was missing until Belle left me the candleshop.”
“Don’t you ever wish your life was a little more exciting?”
I turned into Becka’s complex. “Honestly? Lately I’ve been getting more adventure than I care to.”
“Paik over there,” he said, pointing to the general parking lot away from the housing units. I did as he said, then asked, “So we’re actually trying to be stealthy this timer
“It’s an entirely different proposition breaking into someplace at night I’d rather do it in broad daylight but I’m afraid what we might find if we wait until morning. Follow my lead and try to make as little noise as possible.”
I followed him around the gated pool, past the tennis courts and up to Becka’s sliding patio door in back. He studied the interior through the glass while I kept watch all around us. There were a thousand noises in the night and I had the creepy feeling that every one of them was after us. After what seemed like hours, Markum tapped my shoulder and motioned me to follow him.
We crept around the building and he hit the knocker’s slide to retrieve the key. I’d only shown him once, but he had no problem finding it in the distant lights of the complex’s parking area.
After a minute, he hissed, “It’s not there. Are you sure you put it back?”
“You saw me,” I said as I brushed past him. The key wasn’t in its usual place, and I started panicking, thinking that someone was in the apartment I almost said something to Markum when my fingertip brushed something in the bottom of the tray. I must not have put it
back in its place properly, and I was lucky it had fallen inside instead of out onto the ground.
I handed the key to Markum, who looked surprised, but pleased. He slid it into the lock, opened the door, then replaced the key immediately. Once we were inside, the apartment was nearly pitch-black. I knew Becka always bought the heaviest drapes she could find, since she liked to sleep late whenever she could. A light suddenly sprang up, and I realized Markum had turned on his small flashlight.
“Let’s just grab the machine and go.”
“Easy, Harrison. We’re here. Why don’t we look around again?”
“Markum, we searched the place in the daylight I don’t want the sheriff to catch us in here.”
“He’s busy with a body on the county line, remember? Okay, I don’t want to explain this to him any more than you do.”
He unplugged the machine and wrapped the cord around it “Are you ready?”
“Let’s go.”
We were back outside in less than a minute. As I stepped back to let Markum close the door, the porch light from next door came on. Without thinking or hesitating, I dove through the bushes and started running. Markum was beside me, then suddenly he passed me and was waiting for me when we got back to the truck.
I jammed the key into the ignition, started the truck and took off without looking back. “Man, that was too close,” I said once we were on the highway again.
“It wouldn’t feel right if I didn’t have at least one adrenaline rush from all of this.”
We got back to my apartment and quickly plugged the machine in. I hit the play button after I put the tape in, but all we got was a garbled mess. Markum said, “So we took that risk for nothing.”
“We had to know,” I said. “I don’t know about you, but I won’t forget that voice anytime soon. If I hear it again, I’ll know it”
“There was a lot more on that tape than the voice, though. There was something in the background, something I didn’t quite catch that might have helped us.”
I slapped Markum on the shoulder. “It’s done, so there’s no use worrying about it now. Let’s call it a night. We can figure out what our next step is tomorrow.”
He hesitated, as if he wanted to apologize again, then started to leave the apartment “Tomorrow it is, Harrison.”
“See you then,” I said and ushered him out.
The tape had been a dead end, and Becka’s purse hadn’t been much better. All in all, it was a bad end to a horrible day, and the only thing I wanted was to put it all behind me. I found myself wishing Heather was out of town so I could have her cat Esmeralda for company, but I couldn’t very well call her up and ask her if I could borrow her cat Well, I could, and I knew she’d gladly do it but I didn’t want to face the teasing I’d get about it For tonight I’d have to get through it without my feline friend. Talking to Erin, unloading on her, had done me a world of good, but my time with Markum had negated it I co
nsidered calling her despite the teasing I would probably get, then glanced at the clock and saw that it was already past midnight There was no way I could bring myself to make the call. I wasn’t looking forward to closing my eyes, afraid of what might haunt my dreams, but I stretched out on the couch to rest, and before I realized what was happening, I was fast asleep.
Before we opened the candleshop the next morning, I drove by the Gunpowder Gazette to get a copy of the newspaper I’d found clipped in Becka’s apartment. I had my own subscription, but I’d already recycled mine. While I detested the owner and publisher of the paper, it was critical to my business that I keep up with the events of Micah’s Ridge, and the only way to do that was to read the Gazette. Thankfully the newspaper office still had some for sale for that date, and as I was paying for my paper, Hank Klein, the Gunpowder Gazette publisher, came out of his office. “I thought I heard voices out here. How are you today, Mr. Black?”
“Fine. How’s your wife?” I asked curtly. Wanda Klein had accused me of murdering my competition, and her husband had run with the idea until he’d found another suspect. There was no such thing as due process in Micah’s Ridge, at least not when it came to the town newspaper.
“She’s fine as well. Since you’re here, would you mind if I asked you a few questions?”
‘Taking a sudden interest in candlemaking, are you?”
He bit his upper lip. “Hardly. I’m more interested in how you found that woman’s body in the river yesterday. She was an old flame of yours, wasn’t she?”
“We hadn’t dated for a while. We woe good friends,’ though.”
Klein said, “I understand she was quite promiscuous. Would you care to comment on that?”
I’m not a man of violence ordinarily, but there was something smug in the editor’s tone, a look of prurient interest that made me want to kill him. I grabbed his shirt, startling us both, and said, “If you do one thing to smear Becka Lane in that rag of yours, you’re going to have to answer to me.”
I saw his gaze dart around the office, no doubt looking for his eighty-year-old security man. It didn’t matter, I’d said what I needed to, so I let him go.
