by Lauren Carr
Oak Glen’s Class of 1985’s star linebacker fell flat on his face.
“I wish you hadn’t done that,” Joshua told Hank in a low voice while Tom helped the fallen athlete to his feet.
Humiliated, Karl shoved Tom away and returned to his bar stool to brood while he started on his next beer.
“I saved you from a punch alongside your head,” she muttered.
“Go to the ladies’ restroom and freshen up. I need to question Tom, and you are a distraction.”
Hank took her glass of wine and pretended to go in search of the powder room.
Joshua stepped up to the stool on the other side of Tom, down from where Karl was perched at the end of the bar. Tom started the conversation. “I heard that you were a widower. How long were you married?”
With a pang of guilt about being on a date with someone other than Valerie, Joshua answered, “Seventeen years. We had five children.”
“Everyone thought you were going to marry Beth Davis.”
“I loved Beth, but us being married would never have worked.”
“I know what you mean. I’ve been married for eighteen years and I love my wife, but I still think about Tricia every day. I never really got over her, you know.”
“That’s right.” Joshua pretended to be surprised by the mention of her name. “You two were going steady at one point.”
They were surprised to discover that Karl had been listening to them from his seat three stools away. “Yeah, she dumped him after she made varsity.”
Tom claimed, “But I never held it against her or anything like that. I mean, she got all taken in by that high school social stuff.”
Joshua responded, “Which she never got to outgrow because someone killed her.”
“Even if she hadn’t died, Tom, she never would have come back to you,” Karl said, “because she dumped you because you weren’t good enough for her.”
Tom responded with a nervous chuckle. “Is that what this reunion is all about? How I ended up like everyone figured? A working stiff.” He turned on Joshua. “And so did you, Mr. Most Likely to Succeed. A hero—overseas and at home. Me? No one knows who I am. Admit it. You didn’t even remember who I was until you looked at my nametag and class picture. What is my claim to fame? Dating the class beauty until she dumped me after she discovered she could do better.”
“It could be worse.” Karl scoffed. “You could have married her.”
Joshua apologized, “I was only making conversation. I didn’t mean anything.”
“Yeah, you did,” Karl shot at him before telling Tom, “Didn’t you hear? Josh is the county prosecutor. Gail Reynolds’s book was about Tricia’s murder, and he’s trying to find out who killed the two of them.”
Tom’s eyes widened. He looked at the lawyer searching for the killer of his high school sweetheart. “Do you think I killed Trish?”
Karl answered, “And Gail.”
Joshua wanted to put a cork in the drunken linebacker’s mouth, and he had precisely the right one to shut him up. “Who said Gail got herself killed because of her book?”
“What?” Karl gestured for yet another beer.
“Tricia’s murder was a long time ago.”
“There’s no statute of limitations on murder,” Tom reminded them.
“But up until now, everyone assumed that it was suicide,” Joshua said. “What are the odds that Gail showing up here and asking questions would dig up anything incriminating against anyone? Without evidence to prove that Tricia was murdered, Gail’s book would have been mostly speculation. It is more likely that there was another motive for Gail’s murder.”
Sensing that he was going to witness one of the most interesting scenes in his boring life, Tom edged up closer to the prosecutor so as not to miss a word directed at Karl. “Like what?”
Joshua explained, “Gail grew up around here. She was the editor of the paper and she made a lot of friends and enemies. She pulled no punches about anything.”
Karl growled, “Who cares?”
“This is a small town,” Joshua reminded him. “In small towns, reputations, once you get one, last forever, unless something happens to change it.” He added in a low voice, “Like an accusation.”
“What kind of accusation?” the edge in Karl’s voice held a warning.
“Did you know that she had a baby?”
Tom’s gasp was audible. “Gail Reynolds had a baby?”
“He was born in mid-November of 1985, which means he was conceived in February 1985. Now what happened in February?”
Karl paused with his beer mug perched at his lips.
The prosecutor prodded him, “Do you recall anything significant about that time period, Karl?”
Karl took a gulp of the beer before he quipped, “I guess she loosened up.”
“I remember,” Tom interjected. “I remember because it was so unlike her. I was coming into that dance, on Valentine’s Day with my date. Judy, I think . . . Anyway, it was so weird, I saw a bunch of guys smoking pot over by the practice field and I saw Gail with them. She was laughing real loud. I never saw her like that.”
“What guys?” Joshua asked.
Tom opened his mouth, and then, seeing Karl’s glare, closed it. “It was so long ago, Josh. Besides, what does it matter now? Why would anyone kill her because she had a baby out of wedlock twenty years ago?”
“That’s my thought exactly,” Joshua said. “I mean, the baby was adopted and has grown up. He doesn’t care about his birth parents. Child support is no issue. So what does it matter?”
“Yeah,” Karl grunted.
“She found this baby she had put up for adoption. She had made assumptions about who the father was. But then, I think, when she found him, now, as a young man, she realized who the father was and started to recall events that his birth father would not want to be made public.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Karl growled.
“Gail recently had a nervous breakdown. She was hospitalized. She told someone that she remembered something that happened and was investigating it for her book. Her sister found Gail after the Valentine’s Day dance and her panties were missing. I suspect that what she remembered during her hospitalization was what happened to her panties.”
“So what? Isn’t there a thing called statute of limitations?”
“But for people who have reputations to protect, it’s not too long to do any damage. Nowadays, it would not be called taking advantage of an opportunity, but rape, especially if the one who took advantage of her gave her the booze and pot to get her in a condition in which she couldn’t say no.”
“Go to hell, Thornton.” Karl took his beer and left.
“So, I’m not one of your suspects, huh?” Tom asked as soon as Karl was out of earshot.
“Should you be?” Joshua didn’t want to say he wasn’t a suspect.
Tom said, “Of course, you wouldn’t think me capable of something so brazen as killing the head cheerleader?” He seemed to be asking the prosecutor to suspect him. “Could I be so clever as to kill the beauty queen and not even be suspected of it? I, Tom Jarvis? Oak Glen’s invisible man.”
“Why would Oak Glen’s invisible man want to kill the beauty queen?” Joshua didn’t know if he should take him seriously.
“Because she was a stuck-up bitch.” Tom had drained his beer and waved to the bartender for another one.
Once again, there was a social event in Chester that Jan Martin had organized, but did not attend due to the lack of a date. She was able to bear such humiliation in her youth. Back then, she knew that it was only a pipe dream that the man she loved would invite her. This time, she had a glimmer of hope, only to have it dashed with the appearance of Hank O’Henry.
That was more than she could
stomach.
Since Jan did not drink heavily, she was unable to drown her sorrows with alcohol. Therefore, she decided to spend the night of the reunion consoling herself with a carton of broasted chicken, mashed potatoes, and gravy from a little place called Hot Shots, located down the street from what had once been her drugstore. She broke into the comfort feast while deep conditioning her hair and waiting for the mud mask on her face to set. She was on her fourth piece of chicken, and had downed half of the quart of mashed potatoes when the doorbell rang.
Wiping her greasy fingers on the front of her rattiest bathrobe, which she always wore when she needed coddling, Jan glanced out the window to see Tad waiting on her porch. Instead of his usual faded jeans and baggy sweatshirt, he was dressed in a sports coat and slacks.
“What do you want?” she asked when she opened the door.
Her eyes widened when he pulled a bouquet of red roses from behind his back. “I thought maybe you would like some cheering up.”
“I don’t make a very good mercy date.”
He turned away. “Then forget it. I’ll go find another girl to take to the club.” She made a noise that he took as a request to stop. With a sly grin, he turned back to her.
She took the roses and quickly counted them. There were a dozen, and they were long-stemmed, too. No man had ever given her a dozen long-stemmed roses. “Why would you want to take me to the club?”
“I like you, Jan.”
“Tad MacMillan,” she said with a hand on her hip, “there’s not a woman on God’s green earth that you don’t like.”
“Oh, I’ve met one or two that I have not been very fond of,” he laughed. “But I am very fond of you. I know I tease you, but I only tease people I like.”
“Then you must really love me, considering some of the things you have said to me.”
His smile held a hint of shyness. He said in a soft tone, “I don’t like to see you hurt. I was hoping that maybe we could go out tonight and have a good time since you didn’t go to the reunion.”
She hesitated. A date with Tad MacMillan would certainly add a new dimension to her reputation, which at this point was non-existent. When she looked down to admire the roses in her arms, she saw the old chocolate stain on the lapel of her bathrobe. Her hand flew to her face, which was crusty with dried mud. Her hair was twisted in a discolored orange towel.
“Hey, Doc! How you doing?” Fred and Patty Sinclair slowed down as they strolled around the corner during their evening walk to wave at them.
With a shriek, Jan ran back inside her house and slammed the door.
“That’s never happened to me before,” Tad muttered to himself.
Margo Sweeney Boyd Connor had made her entrance. Everyone in the banquet room at the reunion paused to take in the woman who had to be the most financially successful member of the class of 1985.
She made sure that was apparent to one and all.
The businesswoman was dressed in a mink coat that she whipped off to reveal a scarlet-sequined gown with a plunging neckline that showed off her ample breasts and fleshy back. She did not stop at the mink and sequins. She further flaunted her success with jewels sparkling off every part of her body that could be adorned.
She waved to her former classmates like a starlet welcoming her fans. Some of them returned her greeting. Those who resented her arrogance turned their backs.
Joshua slipped off his stool and crossed the room to where Margo was holding court with a couple of women who, in their youth, had been her cohorts in the mutiny against Tricia. He noticed that all three women had gained significant weight since high school.
His biggest surprise was Judy Tudor. As a young woman, she was both beautiful and vain. Judy had matured into a grossly overweight mother of four now on her third marriage. Each marriage was worse than the previous. He recalled that she had worn heavy makeup and the latest fashions. Her hair color had changed with regularity. Tonight, it was midnight black and fell to her chin in a blunt cut with bangs reminiscent of the hottest hairstyle from a popular movie.
In school, Veronica Bain had been one of Margo’s closest friends. She found fault in everyone and everything. She tried out for nothing because nothing was good enough for her. Joshua suspected that she encouraged, if not instigated, cheerleaders Margo and Judy to rebel against Tricia.
Unattractive, Veronica lacked the femininity and social skills that Tricia Wheeler, Cindy Patterson, and Beth Davis possessed, which made them popular. Joshua could still visualize her sitting in the same corner seat she sat at every day in the little theater during the lunch hour, critiquing whatever took place within her sight. She only left to go smoke in the bathroom.
Now, Veronica, like her two friends, was divorced with children. She had been working at the china plant since she graduated from school. She didn’t bother dressing up for the reunion, except to put on black slacks and a sweater faded with age. The scowl that never seemed to leave her face had etched itself into deep lines around her mouth that made her look like a comic character. The smell of cigarette smoke that grew stronger as he approached the group told Joshua that she had not stopped smoking.
“Hello, ladies,” he greeted the three of them.
Judy made no pretense; she gave Joshua the once-over and liked what she saw. She held out her hand like she expected him to kiss it. “I heard you were back in town, and single again.”
Margo and Veronica greeted him with growls deep in their throats.
“Turn it off, Judy. He’s a lawyer,” Veronica stated as if she were announcing that he had a highly contagious disease.
“Some of my best friends are lawyers,” Margo said. “Go ask Karl.” She gestured over Joshua’s shoulder at her ex-husband, who was downing another beer at the bar.
“I don’t do divorces,” Joshua told them.
“No, you try hanging murder raps on innocent people.” Margo revealed to her cohorts, “First, he accuses my daughter of killing that cheerleader. Then, he says I killed Gail because she was writing that idiotic book saying that I killed Tricia.”
“Well, your daughter is no longer a suspect in Grace’s murder. We have a warrant out for her boyfriend.” Joshua guessed her reaction to his next question, but asked anyway. “I don’t suppose Heather knows where Billy is. He seems to have disappeared.”
“Even if she knew, she wouldn’t tell you.”
“If she knows and doesn’t tell the police, she will be guilty of harboring a fugitive.”
“I said if she knew.” Margo smirked. “She doesn’t, and you can’t prove that she does.”
Joshua chuckled, “Okay then, let’s talk about your favorite subject, Margo. You. You were seen arguing with Gail just hours before she was killed. I was told that you were upset about questions she was asking about Tricia.”
“Why would she have killed Tricia?” Veronica asked. “If anyone was going to kill anyone, it would have been the other way around. Randy was leaving Tricia for Margo.”
“Yeah,” Margo agreed.
“Besides, Tricia killed herself. Sheriff Delaney said so.” Veronica gave him a glare. “And if you try to prove otherwise, then you can go to hell because the three of us were together when she died, and we’ll testify to that in court.”
Joshua was thankful when the debate ended with Randy Fine’s entrance.
The high school charmer threw open both doors and stepped inside the room. With his arms outspread, he announced, “Oak Glen class of ’85! Randy Fine has arrived! Let the party begin!”
The guests greeted him with a cheer.
Margo rushed to throw her arms around Randy’s neck and kiss him on the mouth.
Joshua guessed that the woman on his arm was his wife. Her flawless face was expressionless, not unlike the faces of models when they strut down the runway. She was a slender woman,
who dressed the role of success in a tastefully expensive gown. Her hair was swept up into a twist with a rhinestone comb. She stood erect and looked down her nose at her husband’s friends who gathered to welcome him.
The former Lothario dressed to impress. He wore a tailored suit that had all the touches of a Gentleman’s Quarterly cover. Even with the extra thirty pounds hanging over his belt, he still looked good.
Joshua was struck to see that the dark wavy locks Randy had always kept perfectly combed were reduced to barely enough to cover his head above his ears and around to the back with nothing on top except for a few complimentary strands.
While Joshua tried not to stare at the change, he sensed, rather than saw, Hank emerge at his side. She took his hand. “I assume this was the class prom king,” she murmured into his ear while they watched Randy shaking hands and giving high fives like a presidential candidate.
Joshua turned to her when he was taken into a bear hug by a mountain of a man.
“Remember me?” the hulk asked. “Hoss!” he answered before Joshua had a chance to check out his nametag.
The name was all Joshua needed to remember Randy’s right-hand man. Hoss, nicknamed for his size and strength, followed his best friend around like a golden retriever. “Man! You haven’t changed a bit! You get a hold of some age-defying stuff or what?” He then yelled across the room, “Hey, Rand! Look who’s here! It’s Josh!”
Randy and his entourage made a turn in their path to cross to them. Margo held on to one of his arms as if they were still lovers. On his other side stood the woman Joshua assumed to be his wife. He wondered if she was as cold as she appeared.
Randy grabbed him by the hand and shook it. “Where have you been? How long has it been?” He then seemed to notice Hank for the first time. He gave a cat-like noise from deep in his throat. “Is this Valerie?”
“No, Valerie passed away. This is Hank.” Now aware that Randy was a sexual predator, Joshua could see his eyes taking in the prey. He slipped his arm around her waist and held her close to him. It was a protective move.
