by J A Whiting
“Sounds terrific.” Jackie told her. “So what were you researching today at the library? Something law related?” Jackie asked.
“Not really, no.” Olivia put ketchup on the veggie burger that the waitress placed in front of her. “I’m cleaning out my cousin John’s attic and I came across some old newspapers up there. I found a story about a double murder that happened here in town about forty years ago.”
Jackie bit into her burger. “Before I was born,” she mumbled after swallowing. She wiped her chin with her napkin. “It rings a bell though. Was one of the victims a young mom?”
“A mom and her four year old daughter,” Olivia said.
Jackie put her burger on her plate. “I remember hearing about that. My parents brought it up once.” She looked thoughtful. “The killer was never arrested, right?”
Olivia nodded. “Right. The story caught my interest and I went to the library to look at old newspapers to find out more details about the killings.”
“What did you find?”
Olivia filled Jackie in on the information that she had gathered from her research.
“Awful,” Jackie said. “What kind of a monster could do that? In broad daylight, too. Doesn’t seem smart to kidnap two people in the light of day. Could it have been a crime of emotion? Or was it just random?” Jackie took a swallow of her beer. “This was a small town in those days. Lots of open space and people who had lived in town for years. Most people knew each other. The killings seem out of place. Seems like something more likely to happen in a city. What do you think about the killer? Someone just passing through? Someone from town?”
“The newspaper article said the police suspected a local guy. A nineteen year old. But there wasn’t enough evidence to make an arrest. As far as the police were concerned, the case was solved,” Olivia said.
“Really? That seems awful that they knew who did it but then he got off without being arrested.” Jackie shook her head.
“John said that the Monahans were relatives of ours,” Olivia said.
Jackie’s eyes widened. “Were they?”
Olivia nodded. “I’d never heard about the killings before. I saw the old newspaper up in the attic and John told me about it. I wonder if Mrs. Monahan knew the killer. Like you said, it was broad daylight. Maybe someone stopped Mrs. Monahan for something, to talk or whatever, and then the person kidnapped them. Maybe Mrs. Monahan was unsuspecting because she knew him?”
“It doesn’t seem like it would be premeditated though,” Jackie offered. “If you were planning ahead, wouldn’t you want it to be dark when you approached?”
“But the person must have had a knife with him since the Monahans were stabbed and their throats were cut,” Olivia said. “So maybe it was planned.” Olivia’s stomach was churning and her throat felt dry. Talking about the Monahans having their throats cut caused violent images of last summer to flash through her mind. Her palms were clammy and she reached for her water glass to moisten her throat. She took a long drink and continued. “But like you said, it seems dumb to plan an abduction and murder for the middle of the day. And how would someone even know where the Monahans would be that day?”
“And ‘why’ is another question. What could have been the motive?” Jackie asked.
“It seems beyond brutal to kill a woman and her child,” Olivia’s voice was soft. “The mom must have been terrified. Her one thought must have been to protect her daughter. She must have fought like hell.”
They sat thinking for a while.
“My dad grew up here in town,” Jackie said. “Lived here all of his life. I’ll ask him what he heard about it.”
“I’d be interested in what he has to say,” Olivia said.
“Dad would have been in his early twenties then. He must remember some of the details. I’ll let you know.”
They finished off their burgers.
“The town must be a lot bigger now than back in the seventies,” Olivia said.
“Oh, yeah. The location of Howland is really great. About a half hour on the train to Boston. Good schools. Highway access is nearby. But it still has a very rural, country flavor even with the huge influx of people over the years. Actually all the building and expanding started about forty years ago, a couple of years before those murders,” Jackie said. “That mom and her daughter must have been in the first wave of newcomers to move in. It was the beginning of the changes in Howland.”
“I imagine those murders certainly changed the atmosphere here,” Olivia said.
“Yeah.” Jackie’s face was serious. “I bet that’s for sure.”
Chapter 5
Olivia had spent the morning working on the attic. John had designated the things that should be thrown out, those he wanted to keep, and things he wanted to sell in a yard sale. She carried the things that would be thrown out into the garage. A trash removal company would be coming in the morning to haul the unwanted articles away. Olivia brushed a strand of hair out of her eyes and wiped her dirty hands on her old shorts.
She spotted Mr. Andrews, the landscaper, parking his truck in the driveway alongside one of the construction worker’s vans. Olivia’s cousin had hired Mr. Andrews to cut and trim the lawn at the house. Olivia waved to him and then went into the kitchen through the door from the garage.
Mr. Andrews rang the bell when he had finished his work. He was a spry silver-haired man in his late-sixties. His skin was dark and leathery from years of working outside.
“Hey, Mr. Andrews, come on in. John left an envelope for you. Come to the kitchen. How about a cold drink?” Olivia said.
“A cold drink sounds good. Damn heat,” Mr. Andrews said wiping his forehead with a handkerchief that he retrieved from his back pocket. He followed Olivia to the kitchen at the rear of the house.
Olivia put ice cubes into a tall glass and poured lemonade into it. She put a slice of orange on the rim before handing it to Mr. Andrews.
“That looks great. Thanks.”
“Have a seat. John left the envelope on the desk in the den. I’ll be right back with it,” Olivia told him.
When she returned with the envelope, Mr. Andrews was scanning the account of the murders in the old newspaper that she left on the kitchen table.
“This was a damned thing,” he said still looking at the front page. “I remember it well. Forty years ago? Hard to believe it was so long ago.”
“You lived in Howland back then?”
“Oh, sure. We’ve been here since 1968. The Monahans lived on the next street over from us. We had kids close in age.” He shook his head. “Bah. Hadn’t thought about it for a long time.”
“Were you friends?”
“Can’t say we were friends, exactly. Friendly. My wife knew her. We’d see them at church. The women taught Sunday School. They’d help out at the church when there was a funeral. Things like that.”
“I read in the old papers that the police thought the killer was a local guy, a young man from town,” Olivia said.
“Yeah, I heard that. Nothing came of it, far as I know.”
“No one was ever arrested,” Olivia said.
“Damn shame. Something like that and no arrest.”
“What was the talk? Did people think it was the local guy?”
“Some did. There was lots of gossip. Some thought one of the priests at St. Catherine’s was involved. Don’t know if there was any truth to any of it.”
“Why would someone suspect the priest?” Olivia asked.
“Never knew the details. Women were attracted to him. Ask me, he probably encouraged the attention. I never liked the guy. He seemed like a ladies’ man.”
“The victims were John’s and my distant cousins,” Olivia said.
“Were they? My, God.”
“I’ve been reading about the murders. I’d like to know why no one was arrested.”
Mr. Andrews read a bit more of the old article. “Look, Olivia, why don’t you give my wife a call. She might remember more than
I do about what happened and what people were thinking. Our number is on the invoice for the lawn.” He pointed to the bill he had left on the table.
“I’d hate to bother her. She wouldn’t mind?”
Andrews scoffed. “She never minds talking, that one. She’d be glad to talk to you.” He checked his watch. “I gotta get a move on. Still have a number of lawns to do. Thank you for the cold drink.”
Olivia walked Mr. Andrews to the front door.
When she returned to the kitchen, Olivia glanced at the old newspaper on the table. She played Brad’s words in her head. It was so long ago. Leave it alone. Don’t stir anything up. None of us want a summer like last year. She turned the paper over so that the Monahans’ photos weren’t visible and she headed for the garage to finish preparing the attic junk for the trash company. When Olivia reached the door to the garage, she stopped in front of it. Holding the door knob, she turned her head and looked back at the overturned newspaper. After several seconds of mental debate, Olivia pulled her phone from her shorts pocket, walked back to the table, and leaned over the landscaping invoice to find the number to phone Mr. Andrew’s wife.
Chapter 6
Olivia followed the directions that Mrs. Andrews gave her and she turned her Jeep onto Magnolia Hill Drive. She drove along the winding road past woods of pines, maples, and oaks until it widened slightly and opened to several miles of what Olivia could only describe as mansions. The homes lined both sides of the road, each one set back on expansive acreage. Olivia considered her cousin John’s 2800 square foot antique Colonial to be a huge house, but four to six houses the size of John’s would easily fit inside the palaces she passed. The mansions had an air of understated elegance, as if they were owned by a doctor or lawyer or successful businessperson, but some also exuded an opulence associated with a celebrity or professional sports star.
It was just before noon when Olivia spotted the granite mailbox post with number twenty-eight engraved onto it. She turned the Jeep into the long driveway that led to a stately brick mansion. There were shade trees and mature plantings neatly meandering around the ground’s of the home.
Olivia wondered how a lawn business owner could afford such a place and she suspected that she had the wrong address. She glanced at the paper on the console to confirm the address she had written down to be sure this was the house she was looking for. She slowed the Jeep and parked near the three car garage.
A woman came around the side of the house. She was slender and petite, her silver hair cut short and stylishly with wisps framing her face. She was dressed in a short sleeved striped shirt and tan chinos and carried a basket of flowers in one hand and some garden clippers in the other. She seemed energetic and efficient and she greeted Olivia with a bright smile.
“I was in the back yard and heard the car so I came out to see if it was you. Olivia, right?” She extended her hand.
“Yes, hello Mrs. Andrews,” Olivia said. “Thank you for seeing me.”
“No need for thanks. I’m happy to speak with you. And please, call me Lydia.”
She led Olivia along the stone path to the back of the house. There was a large glass room off the rear of the home. All of the floor to ceiling windows were open, allowing what little breeze there was to enter the room.
“This is a beautiful home,” Olivia said.
“Thank you, hon. People are sometimes surprised that a lawn service man owns a house like this.” She laughed. “Bob owned a construction business all his life. He did quite well, made good investments, and that’s what paid for this place. He retired a few years back, gave the business to our son. But Bob is a man who must keep busy or he goes crazy which means he then drives me crazy.” She winked. “So he decided to start the lawn business. It works out nicely as we live here in spring, summer, and fall and then head out to Arizona in the winter.”
“Lucky,” Olivia said. “I wouldn’t mind escaping some of the New England winters myself. Your husband seems like a real nice man.”
“Oh, he’s a peach. But don’t tell him I said that,” she smiled. “Come on in, Olivia. I want to get these flowers in water. Then we can have some tea and sit and talk.” They entered an enormous kitchen that had a center island, granite counters, high end appliances, and a gleaming wood floor. Mrs. Andrews removed a cut glass vase from a cabinet, filled it with water, and arranged the flowers. She made tea and she and Olivia took their mugs out to the sunroom.
“Please, sit,” Lydia said. They each took a seat in plush chairs. The room provided a view of green lawn, tall maple trees, and flower beds edging the property line.
“What a peaceful, relaxing spot,” Olivia observed. “Even in the heat of the day this room is so cool.”
“It really is a lovely place to sit and enjoy the yard. Somehow it catches the breeze.” They sipped their tea. “So, Olivia, Bob tells me that you are related to Mary Monahan and her daughter.”
“Yes, distantly, though. I didn’t know about them at all until a few days ago when my cousin John told me what happened. No one had ever talked about them to me. Or, of the murders.”
“Not surprising. It was so long ago,” Lydia said. “Time passes and people move on. Sad things are forgotten.” She sipped her tea with a faraway look on her face. “Not forgotten, just left unspoken.” She gave Olivia a sad smile. “How can I help? What can I tell you?”
“I guess I’m trying to piece things together and understand what happened. Why no one was arrested. Your husband said that you and Mary were acquaintances.”
“I would say more than acquaintances, but not full-fledged friends. We both taught at Sunday School and attended the same town events because of our kids, so I got to know her. She was a nice woman, a good conversationalist, kind, helpful. She doted on those kids.” She shook her head slowly and sighed. “Those murders took a toll on me. It hit close to home. I used to imagine being torn from my family like that. My daughter murdered. My husband and two sons left behind. Lives destroyed. Why? For what? The tenuous nature of life…I thought a good deal about that. I believe it made me more grateful for each day. It’s a cliché, I know, but I do believe that I became more mindful of the things that were most important.” She squeezed her hands together in her lap. “I haven’t thought about the murders for a long time.”
“It must have been a terrible shock to everyone in town.”
“Oh, my, yes. It was unbelievable that something like that could happen here in Howland.”
“What did people think? Did the townspeople talk about suspects?”
“Oh, sure. There was plenty of gossip. There was talk of an escaped prisoner, a young man from town. Rumors were swirling.”
“What did you think? Did you have any feelings one way or the other?” Olivia asked.
“I wasn’t sure what to think. I wanted the police to figure it out and make an arrest. Keep us all safe. But you know that didn’t work out.”
“What’s the story on the young man from Howland? Did you think he was a valid suspect?”
“There was never much in the papers regarding him, but we all knew he was taken in for questioning,” Lydia said. “His name was Kenny Overman. I think he was about nineteen when it happened. Kenny was a high school dropout, had a tough family life. We saw Kenny as a young man ruined by his upbringing. He did odd jobs for a while, landscaping, delivery man, snowplowing. He was a big drinker. Kind of a lost soul. My best friend, Angela… her younger sister, Emily, dated Kenny for some time. They weren’t a match at all, but she was drawn to his bad boy tendencies. Emily was a rebel. Her parents were strict Catholics, very wealthy, old money. They have a huge mansion here in the Magnolia Hill section of Howland. Emily chafed at their control. She knew dating Kenny would make them furious. Emily told Angela that Kenny had quite a temper, but Emily could match him on that one. She was always fighting with her parents.”
“Was Angela on Emily’s side in her arguments with the parents?”
“There were ten years between An
gela and Emily. They were never really close. Angela was married already when Emily was in high school. Angela tried to stay neutral in the battles between Emily and the parents. I think Angela felt badly that her parents had so much turmoil going on in their house. After the murders, the parents told Emily that if she didn’t break off with Kenny then they would cut her off financially, so Emily stopped seeing him. They were always on again, off again anyway. My friends and I were on the fence about Kenny and the murders. On one hand, we just couldn’t believe he could commit a crime like that, but on the other hand, what Emily told Angela about his temper and his drinking, well, we wondered if it may have been possible under certain circumstances.”
“What happened to him? Is he still in town?” Olivia asked.
“Oh, no. He’s long gone. Who knows where? Imagine living in a town where everyone thinks you’re a murderer? As soon as he was cleared of suspicion, he took off. I don’t think Emily was sad to see him go. He was too much trouble. She knew it would never work.
“Is Emily living in town now?”
“She lives about twenty minutes from here. She never married. She was engaged for a while to a man she knew since elementary school, but she broke it off. Never had kids. Emily works as an accountant…has her own business now in multiple locations… owns real estate…is very successful. Would you be interested in speaking with her, Olivia?”
“I would. Do you think she’d be willing?” Olivia wondered what the girl who had been dating the suspect would have to say about him.
“I don’t see why not. I’ll make a call to my friend, Angela, and ask her to talk to Emily. I’ll give Angela your cell number and if Emily is amenable, my friend can pass the number to her and ask her to give you a call.
“Yes, please. I’d appreciate it,” Olivia said.
“In fact, if you want another opinion on Kenny, maybe you should also speak to Angela and Emily’s mom, Isabel Bradford. She must be almost ninety now, but she still lives in the family home. Her version of Kenny would certainly be a different viewpoint than Emily’s will be.”
