Sidetracked-Kobo

by Brandilyn Collins

  Within half an hour of Chief Melcher’s call, I was walking into the station, anxiety clawing at my chest. Why had he brought me back here so soon—I, who’d found the body? What piece of so-called evidence might already be working against me? I prayed my face wasn’t giving me away, reflecting a guilt that shouldn’t be there.

  Melcher greeted me without preamble and led me to the small room where we’d been the previous night. “Have a seat.” He gestured toward the table and took a chair on the other end. Melcher looked haggard. And weighted. Once again I sensed it—the pressure on him to solve this crime and return the town back to normal. Melcher wouldn’t want to disappoint anyone. Least of all himself. He had his macho reputation to keep.

  Well, let him have it. As long as he found who did this to Clara.

  He rubbed his face. “You know Billy King?”

  The name blazed through me, if only because the question focused on someone other than myself. “Sure.” Billy went to our church. He was a tall young man in his early twenties, still living with his parents. Not quite mentally retarded, but somewhat slow. “He’s a nice kid. Well, not a kid, but … Works at McDonald’s.”

  Melcher nodded. “Afternoon to evening shift, one to nine.”

  In a flash I saw where this was going.

  “You ever hear anything about Billy having a crush on Clara?”

  I looked at the table. What if I refused to answer these questions? What if I just got up and left right now?

  “Yes.”

  “Did he talk about it to you?”

  “He talked about it to a lot of people. It was no secret.”

  “What did he say to you exactly?”

  “Just that she’s pretty.” Was pretty. The thought hit me in the gut.

  “Anything else?” Impatience tinged Melcher’s voice.

  “That he wanted to ask her out. I think he even did a couple times, but she gently told him no. That was before she starting dating Jerald. I think that kind of broke Billy’s heart. After that he didn’t talk anymore about her.”

  “Ever hear him make any kind of threats against her?”

  “Never.” I looked Melcher in the eye. “He wouldn’t do that. Billy doesn’t have one bit of violence in him.”

  The chief surveyed me, as if wondering at my vehemence. He leaned back and sighed. “I need your help as the only one who possibly saw the suspect immediately following the murder.”

  “Okay.” Fear for myself had morphed into fear for Billy.

  “Billy King was seen running down Brewer Street about a block from where Clara was killed. According to the eyewitness it was right around nine-thirty, when you found her.”

  “I never saw Billy.”

  “You saw someone in the Graysons’ front yard.”

  Grayson. So that was the name of the people who lived in that house. “It couldn’t be him. He wouldn’t do this.”

  Melcher raised his hand. “I wouldn’t have thought anyone in town would do this. And maybe no one did. Maybe some tourist who came here to shop saw Clara and started stalking her. More likely it was someone from here. Someone who knew Clara. I have to sweep aside all preconceived notions. Just look at the facts.”

  “Why do you think the murderer knew Clara?”

  “Because of how precisely the crime occurred. You told me Clara left only about five minutes before you did. It’s almost as if someone targeted her. Knew she’d be driving up that street from her shower and waved her down.”

  I thought of Clara’s car near the curb, still running, the driver’s door open.

  “Wouldn’t he have a gun then, or a knife?” It took time to strangle someone. At least, from the marks on Clara’s neck, that’s how I assumed she had died.

  “Not if he didn’t expect to kill her.”

  “You said ‘targeted’—”

  “Not to kill her. Just to stop her car. Then something could have gone terribly wrong.”

  Terribly fast.

  “You think Billy flagged down Clara’s car?”

  “He was seen on that street. At that time.”

  “I didn’t see him.” We’d been through this before.

  “Delanie. You saw a man in the Graysons’ yard. You were very clear that you couldn’t see his face. But that he looked in your direction, then turned and ran.”

  “What was Billy wearing?”

  “A dark hooded sweatshirt.”

  No. This couldn’t be.

  “If he was wearing that hood up, how did the person see his face?”

  “The hood was down.”

  “Down.” I worked to logic through that. “So he’s running with the hood down, then in the middle of running, he stops to put it up?”

  Melcher shrugged, as if the answer was obvious. “To hide his face.”

  “But this person who saw him—or saw somebody—they didn’t see Clara? Her car?”

  “They saw Billy a block away.”

  So the answer was no. “What block? Above—farther away from the church? Or below?” Neither made sense.

  Melcher wiped his hand down his face. He was the one who was supposed to be asking questions.

  “Because … look. I was coming up the street. If Billy was one block below Clara, I’d have seen him. If he was one block above, supposedly fleeing the scene, he would’ve had to turn around, run back toward Clara’s body, pass her, then veer into that front yard. Why would he do that?”

  “I think”—the chief’s tone hardened—“you need to leave the investigating to me.”

  “Not if you’re headed in this direction.” The words slipped from me before I could stop them.

  Chief Melcher raised his chin and looked down his nose at me. The air shifted. I saw nothing left of the man who’d felt empathy for me the previous night. This was the chief of police, suspicious and gunning to solve a homicide in his town. Fast.

  I narrowed my eyes at Melcher, knowing defensiveness rolled off my shoulders. Clearly, he sensed the wall going up inside me. And right now he was wondering what I had to hide.

  Tension coiled around the room.

  “Billy is tall.” I fought to push collaboration into my voice. “Maybe six-two. We can measure how tall the man was I saw. Because he stood by the bush in that yard. Remember, I told you the bush was the same height as he.”

  “I don’t remember you saying that.”

  “Of course I did.”

  Melcher shook his head. “News to me. And I’ve gone over what you told me three or four times.”

  Heat surged up my limbs. Not again—a policeman pouncing because I’d neglected to tell him something. I couldn’t have forgotten something this important. “Yes, I did. I remember thinking it at the time—the man was the same height as the bush.”

  The chief drew a breath. “I’ll check my notes.”

  “We could go over there. You could stand beside the bush. You’re what, six feet? We could at least get a feel for it.”

  “I’ll take care of it. ”

  “But—”

  “I’ll take care of it.”

  He wasn’t going to do it. Melcher didn’t believe a word of this.

  The chief and I eyed each other.

  He tapped the table. “Why are you so strong on protecting Billy?”

  “Not protecting him. Just … seeking the truth.”

  “You think I’m not?”

  “I’m sure you are.”

  The air in the room grew heavier.

  “How long have you known him?”

  I swallowed. “About as long as I’ve lived here. I met him when I started going to the Methodist Church.”

  “Know him well?”

  “Not really. I don’t hang out with him or anything.”

  “But you volunteer at the church sometimes, and so does he.”

  “Yes.”

  “You’ve worked together on projects?” The chief was watching me carefully.

/>   I shifted beneath his stare. “Sometimes. Simple things like folding programs.”

  “Did you talk during those times?”

  “Sure. I guess.”

  “That when he talked to you about Clara?”

  I thought a moment. “Probably.”

  The chief remained silent, waiting for me to say more.

  “I can’t remember exactly.”

  He absorbed the answer. “You know Billy’s mother well?”

  I squeezed my hands together beneath the table. This was feeling more and more like an interrogation. “Fairly. Cheryl goes to our church too. So did Lester. But he’s gone now.” Billy’s father had died the year before from a heart attack.

  “Didn’t Lester King work with Andy?”

  “You mean at the real estate firm? I don’t think so.”

  Chief Melcher lifted a hand. “He was an inspector. I’m sure he inspected properties that Andy helped clients either buy or sell.”

  “Oh. Maybe.” So what? In Redbud, everyone was tied to everyone in some way or another.

  My cell phone went off in my purse. I made no move to answer it.

  The chief thumped two fingers against the table. “Be right back.”

  He left the room, closing the door behind him.

  I blew out air, my chest deflating. What did he think, that Billy and I planned Clara’s death, and I was protecting him? That was insane. No one would believe that.

  Oh, really?

  After about five minutes Chief Melcher returned. Sat down at the table. “I checked my notes from last night. There’s nothing in there about the height of the man you saw versus the bush.” He seemed almost happy about it.

  My insides froze. “There has to be. It’s one of those details that stood out so clearly.”

  He shook his head.

  “I just forgot it then. I was so upset.”

  “Before you left I asked you if there was anything else you could think of.”

  “I’m sorry I didn’t at the time. But I’m telling you now.”

  He held my gaze. I could practically hear the cop gears in his head turning. You only “remembered” after I asked you about Billy …

  How little time it had taken. Not even twelve hours after the murder, and the Chief of Police looked at me with new eyes. This could not be happening. Again.

  I steadied my breathing. “Anything else you need from me? I’d like to get back home.”

  Melcher gave me a long look. “Thank you for coming down, Miss Miller.” He pushed back his chair and stood.

  I was dismissed.

  On the way home I drove a block farther south than needed so I could go up Brewer. In front of the house where I’d seen the Shadow Man I stopped. Gazed at the bush for quite some time.

  It had to be shorter than Billy.

  I drove on up the street. Crime scene tape still cordoned off the area where I’d found Clara. Four people stood beyond the tape, gazing at the empty sidewalk. I recognized Nancy Stillman and her husband, Frank; and Phil Tranke, who owned the town’s drugstore. A few years ago Clara had worked in that store. Aaron Kater, a young man about Clara’s age, stood next to Phil. Nancy was placing flowers on the sidewalk, beside other bunches of blooms. A makeshift place of mourning.

  I passed the scene. Then on impulse I pulled over to the curb a few houses up. Walked back to join the group. Nancy faced me, her eyes teary.

  “They said you found her.” Nancy had left Clara’s shower about half an hour before I did. An all too familiar emotion pinched her face—guilt. I could practically hear her thoughts. If only I’d stayed longer. If only I’d done … something.

  I nodded. My gaze fixed to the sidewalk where Clara had lain.

  “And you saw a man?”

  It wasn’t Nancy’s knowledge that struck me. In Redbud, gossip moved at the speed of light. It was the fervency in her tone, a near pleading. The need to find someone to blame roils all the more when people believe—rightly or not—that their inaction may have helped cause the disaster. The quicker a suspect is caught and brought to justice, the quicker self-blame can be soothed. Townspeople like Nancy—and I knew there would be many—would unwittingly put more pressure on the police for a fast arrest.

  Everything within me wanted to deny what was coming. At the moment I had no energy to deal with it. Wasn’t grieving over Clara’s death enough? But reality stared me in the face. The police would go after Billy King. Quiet, gentle Billy. No matter that their evidence was next to nothing. Evidence was a fluid word, manufactured in a suspicious cop’s mind, packaged by a skillful attorney in court.

  As Pete would put it, I had to sidetrack the train headed straight for Billy King.

  “I saw a man in the shadows. Standing by a bush in that yard.” I pointed down the street toward the two-story, white wood home.

  “Did you see his face?” Frank asked.

  “No.” I sighed. “Chief Melcher said the Graysons live there. Anyone know them?”

  Phil stuck his hands in his trouser pockets. “Jack and Beth. Both retired. Jack used to work in the bus transit system in Lexington.”

  Surely Chief Melcher or one of the other officers had talked to them by now.

  “This should have been anybody but Clara.” Aaron’s face looked drawn.

  Yes. “Did you know her well?"

  Aaron gazed up the street. “We went to school together.” His voice was low. “I’ve known her since second grade. We dated a few times. Back before she met Jerald.”

  Phil and I exchanged a glance. From the way Aaron spoke, it sounded like he still had feelings for Clara.

  We stood there in silence for a few minutes.

  I took a deep breath. “Need to see something.” I walked into the street, around the crime scene tape, and down toward the Graysons’ house.

  “Where you going?” Nancy called.

  “Just checking something out.” I didn’t look back. Last thing I needed was an entourage following me.

  The Graysons’ yard was well kept, flowers lining their front sidewalk. I focused on the section of yard where the man had run. Saw no footprints.

  I went up the three stairs to the Graysons’ porch and rang the bell. After some time I could hear footsteps approaching. The door opened to reveal a white-haired gentleman with piercing blue eyes.

  “Hi.” I could feel my cheeks flush. “I’m Delanie Miller. Last night—”

  “I know who you are.” Mr. Grayson stepped back. “Come in.”

  So the town gossip had reached them as well. Chief Melcher wouldn’t have given them my name.

  The house was old, with lots of character. Worn wooden floors and windows, a brick fireplace in the living room to the right.

  Mr. Grayson closed the door behind us. He gestured toward a sitting room on our left. “Please, have a seat in here.” He tipped his head back, facing the stairs. The skin on his neck was wrinkled and thin. “Beth!”

  “Coming.”

  As I sat I heard Mrs. Grayson’s footfalls on the steps. She entered the room with her husband, breathless. She was a short, plump woman, gray-haired and sweet-faced. “Sorry. Just doing some cleaning upstairs.”

  Mr. Grayson introduced us. They sat, Mrs. Grayson perching on the edge of a blue chair, ankles crossed.

  “I’m sorry to bother you.” My fingers laced and unlaced. “I guess the police have told you what I saw. I just wondered if you saw the man.”

  Jack Grayson shook his head. “Not at all. Wish we had.”

  “Scares me to death to think that man was in our yard.” Mrs. Grayson raised both palms. “You can bet we’re locking our doors tonight.”

  “He was in the shadows, standing by that big bush.” I half turned, pointing over my shoulder. “Then he ran into your backyard.”

  Mrs. Grayson nodded. “The police looked all around back there. I don’t think they found much. There’s no fence, so he could have run into a neighbor�
�s yard, then who knows where.”

  I shifted in my seat, only then realizing I’d left my purse and keys in my car. A habit in “safe” Redbud. “One thing I noticed was that the man stood the same height as your bush. How tall is it, do you know?”

  Mr. Grayson pushed out his bottom lip. “Don’t know. Little shorter than me, I guess.”

  “Do you think we could measure it?”

  He shrugged. “Sure.” He pushed to his feet. “I’ll get a tape.”

  “Hmm.” Mrs. Grayson tilted her head. “The police didn’t even mention that last night.”

  Had I really forgotten to tell Chief Melcher that? Or did he just not want to hear it?

  Yellow tape measure in hand, Mr. Grayson and I went outside to check the height of the bush. I could only hope no one saw what we were doing—especially someone from the police department. I held the bottom of the tape to the ground while Mr. Grayson pulled it upward.

  The bush stood five feet eight inches tall.

  “Yup, like I said, a little shorter than me.” Mr. Grayson rolled up the tape. “I’m six feet even.”

  Billy was even taller than that.

  “So now at least we know the size of the man.” Mr. Grayson ushered me back up the porch steps. “That’s more than we knew last night.”

  “Yes. Five-eight. I know what I saw.”

  Anything to cement that fact in Mr. Grayson’s mind. He’d probably tell others. By the time it got back to Chief Melcher—too late for him to deny. People would already have accepted it as fact.

  Of course this was a gamble for me—going around the police in such a manner. What if I ended up paying for it? All Chief Melcher had to do was nose into my background, hoping to find something to discredit me. But I had to help Billy. And somehow in all this I’d … rise above it. Five years of building relationships in town had to count for something.

  Truth was, I couldn’t bring myself to think of the alternative.

  I chatted with the Graysons a few more minutes, then excused myself. Mr. Grayson escorted me to the door. “If you think of anything more, please let us know.”

  My lips managed to curve. These were nice people. “I will.”