Mellow Yellow, Dead Red

by Sylvia Rochester

  Martha straddled the ATV, and Susan climbed on behind her. Leaning forward, she whispered in Martha’s ear. “If I don’t hear from you soon, I’ll be knocking on your door.”

  Chapter 15

  The next morning, on the way to headquarters, Wesley called Susan. “Just checking to make sure you’re okay.”

  “I love you, too. Am I going to see you today?”

  “I can’t promise. Charlie and I have several appointments, and you know how that goes—one thing leads to another. What do you have planned for today?”

  “I’m hoping to get together with Martha. She has an idea about what might have happened, but she wanted to check her facts. I hate waiting.”

  “Let me know what she says. I see Charlie is already at the office, so I’d better run. Love you.”

  Wesley entered the station blurry eyed. He was glad to see fellow officers welcoming Charlie, mostly kidding him for doing anything to get out of work.

  “Thanks, guys,” Charlie said, taking a seat at his desk. Chief Smith, standing in his doorway, cleared his throat. Charlie stood and gave a quick salute to his boss, who gave a thumbs-up.

  “We’d better leave now, before your head gets too big to fit inside the car,” Wesley said.

  Charlie straightened his tie. “Where we going?”

  “The Coroner’s office.”

  Charlie’s mouth turned downward. “Did something happen last night I should know about?”

  “If you mean another homicide, you know the department would have contacted you. This is just a follow-up visit. Vince called to say he had additional information. Soon as I grab a cup of coffee, we’ll be on our way. I fell asleep on the couch last night and am still trying to work the kinks out of my neck.”

  When they arrived at the morgue, Charlie was slow to undo his seat belt. “I really hate the sight of that building, almost as much as I hate the smell.” He lagged behind as they approached the front door.

  “Are you going to be okay?” Wesley asked.

  Charlie nodded and took a couple of deep breaths. “I can smell the disinfectant from here, and it triggers bad memories. Considering our line of work, I can’t help but wonder if I might end up on one of Vince’s slabs.”

  “Look at it this way. If you do, you’ll never know. So don’t worry about that.” Wesley opened the door to the lab.

  Vince was waiting on them. “Good morning, fellows.” He looked at Charlie and smiled. “Glad you’re back on the job, Charlie. You shouldn’t have a problem with this visit. There’s no body to view. Wesley and Reggie took care of Mr. Burkett while you were on leave. However, if you want to see him, I can accommodate you.”

  Charlie shook his head. “Pass.”

  Vince gave a snarky laugh. “That’s what I figured.”

  “What you got, Vince?” Wesley asked.

  “I found two different blood samples on Burkett’s camouflaged shirt. One is Type O, the same as Burkett’s. The other is B positive, the same blood type as Nina Hasting’s. I’m pretty sure DNA will confirm a match on both.

  “I also found hair samples—some matched the victim, and a few matched Nina Hasting. But I also found a few blond hairs that didn’t match Nina or Burkett. You’d have to take samples from everyone Burkett ever had contact with to find a match. That’s not likely to happen.

  “Since Nina came from a small town in Oregon, I was able to locate her dentist. We had enough dental remains that he had no problem making a positive identification.”

  “Confirming the identity of the victims is important,” Wesley said, “but what I’d really like to know is why. The way things are going, I wonder if I’ll ever figure that out.”

  “I have faith in you, my boy,” Vince said. “Keep digging. You’ll find the answer.” Vince handed Wesley a copy of the blood evidence. “In the meantime, try not to turn up any more bodies.”

  Once outside, Charlie blew out a long breath. “Whew, I’m glad to get out of there. What’s next?”

  “I scheduled an appointment this afternoon with the principal at Palmetto High. We need to check out Burkett’s status as a part-time janitor. I have a warrant to search his locker or any personal effects. Maybe someone at the school knew Burkett well enough to shed some light on him. Having lived here all his life, you’d think he’d have cultivated a few friendships, if not an accomplice.”

  “I bet his only friend was his mama.”

  “You might be right. Since we have time to spare, why don’t we grab some lunch. After that, I’d like to stop by Kara’s.”

  “Why?”

  “I want to make sure Achille Cormier hasn’t tried to drag them into anything.”

  “I thought you took care of that when you arrested him.” Charlie rubbed the palm of his hand with his thumb. “I wish we didn’t have to go there. I feel kinda funny, having consulted her. You didn’t tell Kara you saw me there, did you?”

  “Your secret is safe with me, and I’m sure Kara doesn’t discuss her clients. However, she might give you a discount on your next reading.” Wesley burst out laughing.

  “Yeah, like that’s going to happen.”

  Wesley studied the sheepish look on Charlie’s face. “You, I could play poker with.”

  “What you mean by that?”

  “Just thinking out loud.”

  Charlie shifted his weight from one foot to the other while Wesley pressed Kara’s doorbell.

  The minute she opened the door, her smile changed to a frown at the sight of Wesley and Charlie. “Is something wrong?”

  “That’s what I came here to find out,” Wesley said. “Has Cormier contacted you or tried to implicate you in anything?”

  Kara’s wrinkled brow relaxed. Her features changed into her usual smooth, flawless complexion. “So far, nothing, but I wouldn’t put anything past him.”

  “If you hear from him, don’t respond. Call me, and I’ll see if I can put a stop to it.”

  “I will.”

  “Is this a bad time?”

  “Not at all.”

  Wesley wondered if she had dressed for Edward’s benefit. If so, he was a lucky man. Kara was wearing a silk kaftan, and she looked more like a high priestess in a fantasy movie than a housewife in Palmetto. The emerald green color embellished her dark hair and eyes and added a look of mystery.

  “I don’t have appointments until this afternoon,” Kara said. “Had you been five minutes earlier, you would have caught Edward. Please, come in.” She looked at Charlie. “I heard about your suspension. This must mean that you’ve been cleared.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “I never doubted your innocence.”

  “Thank you,” Charlie responded without engaging Kara’s eyes.

  Kara ushered them into the living room. It was a stunning sight—high ceilings, magenta walls and wide, white crown molding. Gold damask drapes adorned three floor-to-ceiling windows. A white fabric with rose and magenta floral designs covered the sofa and side chair. Wesley wasn’t sure of the make and period of the furniture, but every piece looked like something out of a museum.

  “I can tell from your expression, this was not what you expected,” she said to Wesley.

  “That obvious, huh?”

  Kara laughed. “I hold my séances and Tarot readings in a room in the rear of the house. I designed it with a dark and mysterious décor, and it works well for my business.”

  “Speaking of your business, have your Tarot cards showed you anything that might be of help to me?”

  “Maybe. Earlier, when I had mentioned the letter N, I assumed it represented Nina Hasting, especially after her identity was confirmed. Now I’m not so sure. The letter keeps appearing. Wasn’t the girl in your cold case named Edith Nelson?”

  “Yes, but I don’t have anything to tie Edith to the latest victim, Dale Burkett. There is an unknown person, however. Susan had a vision in which she saw a figure crouched over Burkett’s grave. It was dark, and she was unable to make out any features. Maybe th
e letter will have something to do with that person.” Wesley shrugged. “As you can see, I’m clueless and reaching for anything.”

  “I have confidence you’ll figure it out. In the meantime, I’ll keep consulting the cards.”

  Charlie stood and motioned with his head to Wesley. “If we don’t get a move on, we’re going to be late for our next appointment.”

  Kara walked them to the door. “Edward will be sorry he missed you. I’ll let you know if the cards reveal anything. In fact, I’ll go do a reading right now, while your essence is still in the house.”

  Charlie climbed into the passenger seat of the car and turned to Wesley. “...while your essence is still in the house,” he said in a high pitched voice. “What a pile of crap.”

  “Don’t be so quick to judge. You might just eat those words.”

  Wesley pulled into one of the three visitor’s parking places at the high school. A few minutes later, two men from the Crime Unit parked alongside.

  The rambling, blond brick building appeared the same as when Wesley had attended the school. An off-duty police officer met them at the entrance. “Times sure have changed since I went here,” Wesley said. Everyone showed their credentials, and Wesley explained that he and Charlie had an appointment with the principal.

  The officer issued them all a visitor’s pass. “The principal’s office is down the hall and to the right. Be sure to turn in your passes when you leave.”

  Wesley suggested the technicians wait in the hall until he and Charlie met with the principal and discovered the location of Burkett’s locker.

  As he passed classrooms, Wesley thought back to his days at Palmetto High. He thought it funny how the building still smelled the same—a mixture of old books and floor wax. A closer look revealed that the years had not been kind to his alma mater. The metal lockers that lined the walls had lost their shiny surface. The white paint on the walls no longer had that new-paint smell. Only the glass trophy case remained much the same. It was still filled with many trophies and awards. He paused for a moment and rubbed his shoulder, a constant reminder of his grueling times on the gridiron.

  Charlie opened the door to the office. “You coming?”

  A student worker met them at the counter. “May I help you?”

  “We’re Detectives Grissom and Morgan. Mr. Overton is expecting us.”

  She checked a schedule on the counter then led them to the principal’s office.

  Wesley had made more than a few trips to that room when he was a student. It hadn’t changed a bit, except for the man behind the desk. Walter Overton stood about five-foot seven. He had a semi-spiked, tossed hair-do that young men were sporting these days. That, along with his slender body and baby face, didn’t go with his position. How could a man of his stature discipline out-of-control jocks? Then it struck Wesley. Everyone was looking younger these days, a sure sign he was getting older.

  On the side wall of the office, Stewart’s unfinished painting of George Washington was another reminder of his youth. The founding father seemed to look down on Wesley, as if to say, “I remember you.”

  After introductions, the three of them got down to business. “Thanks for seeing us,” Wesley said. “We’ll try not to take up much of your time. As I explained over the phone, we’re investigating the death of Dale Burkett.” He reached into his pocket and handed the principal a copy of the search warrant. “Whatever you can tell us about Mr. Burkett would be appreciated. For example, how long did he work for you? Did he have many friends?”

  Walter Overton opened a file folder. “This is his personnel file. I’m afraid there’s not much to share. Burkett kept to himself. In fact, I don’t think he had a close friend here. He had a locker in the maintenance room.” Overton handed Wesley a key. “Wish I could be of more help.”

  “You can only say what you know. Now, if you’ll point us to the maintenance room, I’ll notify the crime technicians to join us. I suggested they wait at the front entrance.”

  “Looks like the same old story,” Charlie said, as they all approached the door labeled, PHYSICAL PLANT MAINTENANCE.

  “Anyone here?” Wesley called upon entering.

  “Looks like we have the place to ourselves, boys,” Charlie said. “I see a set of lockers on the far wall.”

  Wesley matched the number on the key to a locker then handed it to the technician. Everyone put on rubber gloves, and the technician opened the locker.

  “Not much here,” the technician said to his partner. “Let me get some photographs then I’ll remove the items. You can bag ’em.”

  To Wesley’s chagrin, he saw nothing of interest—a roll of duct tape, a pair of heavy-duty rubber gloves, a poncho, and on the top shelf, a large bottle of Rolaid tablets.

  Staring at the bottle, Wesley remembered the Tylenol bottle in Burkett’s medicine cabinet. “Wait,” he said to the technician. “Empty the bottle in your hand.”

  “What are you—?” Charlie’s jaw dropped as something shiny slipped from the bottle and landed on top of the Rolaids. “Is that what I think it is?”

  Wesley lifted a tiny gold chain. Dangling from the end of it was a gold cross. The other technician took several pictures before placing it in an evidence bag.

  The technicians gathered up their things. “Looks like we’re done here. I’ll file all this into evidence. See you at headquarters.”

  After they left, Charlie turned to Wesley. “Like Nina, this is probably another of his souvenirs. It all makes sense now. I remember reading that Edith Nelson was a student here. She would have passed Burkett a hundred times in the halls. If he happened to be at the football game the night she disappeared, she wouldn’t have thought anything about it...until it was too late.”

  Wesley glared at Charlie. “This doesn’t mean she’s dead. Maybe he got his rocks off by keeping something of her close to him.”

  “Hey, I’d love to see a happy ending, but if Edith were still alive, why would Burkett kidnap Nina?”

  Wesley didn’t like hearing that, but he couldn’t argue with Charlie’s logic. Wanting a different outcome was clouding Wesley’s objectivity. He needed to reassess his thinking. “One thing is certain—the person Susan saw running away holds the answers. That is, if Susan really saw someone. What if the person was another illusion, like the Indian?”

  “If Susan said she saw someone, you can bet she did,” Charlie said. “I’m inclined to believe it was Burkett’s accomplice. If so, we’ll find him. There’s not too many places to hide in Palmetto.”

  “What if that person was Edith?” Wesley asked. “Burkett could have kept her prisoner all these years. There are cases where women were held in captivity far longer.”

  “There you go again. Trying to make the story into what you want it to be. Think about this. If the mystery person is Edith and she managed to get free, where would she go?”

  “Home,” Wesley said.

  “Right, and don’t you think her parents would be beside themselves? Why they’d be shouting it to the rooftops. The news would spread like wildfire. Since we haven’t heard a peep, it’s definitely not Edith.”

  Wesley tried to picture what Edith’s homecoming might be like. Would her parents react like Charlie suggested? “I’m not so sure about her parents. Maybe they’d keep her return a secret, shelter her from the prying public, and help her cope with the horrors of her captivity.” Wesley ran his hand along his jawline, giving the problem more thought. “I should give the Nelsons a call, see if there’s a change in their demeanor. If they are hiding something, I should be able to tell.”

  “Are you going to tell them about finding her cross?”

  “Not yet. I’m going to keep that as my ace in the hole.”

  “Okay, let’s assume you’re right—the mystery person is Edith and somehow she made it home. There could be another reason why her parents would keep her return a secret. What if she killed Burkett?”

  “I don’t see how she could overpower such a large man. T
hen again, stranger things have happened. Consider this—the mystery person was Burkett’s accomplice. If that’s the case, the odds are there are other bodies out there. Is Edith’s body among them?”

  “Only one way to find out,” Charlie said. “Expand the search and let the cadaver dog do his thing.”

  “When we get back to headquarters, I’ll contact the deputy in charge of the dog. Let’s meet at the Burger Shack in the morning about eight.”

  Wesley and Charlie stopped by the office on their way out to thank the principal for his cooperation.

  “While you were checking out Burkett’s locker, I got to thinking,” Mr. Overton said. “Once in a while, I saw Burkett talking to our groundskeeper, Leonidas Manika. I wouldn’t call them buddies, but a few times Burkett gave him a ride home.”

  “Any chance I can talk with Mr. Manika?”

  “Not unless you want to drive to Dandridge, Tennessee. He quit a couple of weeks ago, said his cousin found him a better paying job.”

  “Do you have a forwarding address?”

  “No, all I know is he gave me the name of the town.” Mr. Overton handed Wesley a piece of paper. “I took the liberty of copying information from his personnel file. Maybe his driver’s license and the number of his license plate will help.”

  Wesley read Mr. Manika’s physical description—six-feet two, two-hundred and thirty-five pounds, blond hair, brown eyes. A man of Manika’s stature would be physically able to handle Burkett.

  As he passed the information to Charlie, Mr. Overton said the man’s name again, this time with gusto. “Leonidas Manika—now that’s a mouthful. The staff never could get used to either name, so they decided to call him Nick.”

  Wesley glanced at Charlie, who snapped to attention. They both thanked Mr. Overton and took their leave.

  Halfway down the hall, Charlie punched Wesley’s arm. “Yes!”

  “Keep it down till we’re out of here,” Wesley said.

  Charlie hurried and was waiting in the passenger seat when Wesley reached the car. “I almost exploded when Overton said, ‘Nick.’ That’s Nick with a big, fat N.’’ He looked upward. “Sorry I doubted you, Kara.”