The Leafing: the 2nd book in The Green Man series

by Sharon Brubaker

  When he turned to hang his coat on the hook on the back of the door, Carol slyly winked at Sylvia and she mouthed “thank you.”

  “How was your trip?” Carol asked Mr. Carter.

  “Not too bad,” he answered. “The side streets and developments are a mess, just like they are here,” he said. “But, I-95 was just fine.”

  “I think we have lots of catching up to do, girls,” Mr. Carter told them.

  Both Sylvia and Carol got the hint. Sylvia left her perch on the edge of Carol’s desk.

  Mr. Carter turned and said to Sylvia, “I’d like to go over those dates of the spring marketing events with you this afternoon, as well as work on a draft of a newsletter that goes out to the company and one for the public.”

  “Sure thing,” Sylvia told him as she headed into her office.

  She spent the morning putting the finishing touches on the spring calendar and roughed up an e-newsletter for Mr. Carter and sent both via email for his perusal, knowing things would likely change a bit in their meeting that afternoon.

  Carol called to her that it was lunchtime and Sylvia was grateful for a break. She stood and stretched and logged off of her computer. As they wended their way to the cafeteria, Carol chatted and told Sylvia funny stories about the snowstorm. She complained about the endless peanut butter sandwiches they ate when the electricity was still out. Sylvia asked about Shannon and the baby. Carol told her they had a woodstove so Sean kept Mommy and baby toasty warm.

  “Can you believe they cooked on the woodstove?” Carol marveled. “Shannon said it was the best chicken they had ever eaten. She also made a traditional Irish stew in a cast iron Dutch oven and biscuits! Shannon said Sean learned about Dutch oven cooking when he was a boy scout. Amazing!”

  Sylvia agreed. They looked over the cafeteria food. Sylvia chose soup and a salad while Carol ordered a grilled Panini. Sylvia paid for her food and scoped out a table. She chose one near the windows. It was a little chilly, but the snowy winter landscape was lovely. It had taken her months to finally feel comfortable looking out at the woodsy area where they found Anna’s body.

  “Jeez,” Carol complained. “It took them long enough,” she said as she plunked her tray a little too hard on the table. Some of her soda spilled on her tray as well as on the table.

  “Now look what I’ve done,” Carol said.

  “No worries,” Sylvia told her. “I picked up extra napkins.” Sylvia mopped up the mess.

  “Thanks,” Carol said before asking, “Now, lady, tell me what’s up with you.”

  “Carol, I’m so confused,” Sylvia told her. “I guess I really don’t want Owen to buy a house, but,” she paused to take a spoonful of soup, “but,” she started again, “I don’t want him to move in without some sort of commitment. Am I just still hurting, or am I fickle and being unreasonable?” she asked her friend.

  Before Carol could answer, a shadow moved by their table and stopped. Sylvia looked up and her mouth nearly dropped open. It was Owen.

  “Hi,” he said, “Can I join you?”

  Carol was the first to recover, “Sure,” she said, “pull up a chair.”

  Owen put his tray on the table and went to get an unused chair from another table.

  When he was settled, Carol asked him, “So, what’s up with you lately?” she asked innocently.

  “Sylvia hasn’t told you?” he asked.

  Carol nodded at him with a smile. “It’s exciting news for you. Any word yet?” Carol asked.

  “No, not yet,” Owen answered, “it’s too early. Apparently the former owner died on vacation and the sale is tied up between the children.”

  “That could work to your advantage,” Carol told him.

  “I think I’m in a good position,” Owen said.

  Carol and Owen continued to talk about the townhouse and real estate in general. Sylvia only half listened and was focusing on her lunch when her cell phone rang. She fished in her purse until she found it.

  “Excuse me,” she said briefly to Owen and Carol.

  “Hi Sylvia,” Joes’ voice came through the line.

  “Hi, Joe,” she said, “this is a surprise.”

  “Well, the tip worked,” he told her. “We tracked down Kenny and we’re bringing him in. Can you come to the station and make identification?”

  “Oh!” she said, surprised. “Sure, I guess so.”

  “How soon can you get here?” Joe asked.

  “Uh, I need to let my boss know and rearrange my schedule for the afternoon,” she mused out loud. “In under an hour, I think.”

  “Perfect,” Joe said. “Kenny can sweat it out a bit. See you soon.”

  “Wow,” she said softly as she hung up the phone.

  “What’s up?” Carol asked.

  Briefly Sylvia caught them up in a few sentences, said goodbye and headed back to the office to brief Mr. Carter on what was happening.

  Sylvia droves as quickly as she could to the police station. As soon as she signed in at the front, Joe came rushing down the hallway.

  “Sylvia,” he said, rather breathlessly. “How are you?”

  “Okay,” she said tilting her head up to look at him. He had cut his hair recently and his blond hair was in a short, spiky crew cut.

  “Good,” he said and he gently took her elbow and guided her down the hallway. She went to part of the police station she had never been before. Joe unlocked a door and motioned for her to go inside. It was like something out of a television show. It was a darkened room with a large glass looking into another room. Another man was sitting at some recording equipment. Joe took her coat and set it on a chair.

  “Do you want to sit down?” he asked her.

  Sylvia shook her head. She looked at the man in the other room. Recognition of the guy in the next room came as a shock to her. This was the man, dressed nearly the same as he was in December—a long sleeved Henley was under his flannel shirt. His hair was a bit longer than it had been before. He had grown a mustache and beard since December, but she still knew him. This time he wasn’t laughing. He looked confused and scared and shifted in his seat. He was still alone in the room. He also looked familiar to her. She thought she had seen him somewhere before, but she wasn’t sure where. She stood and looked and concentrated. He didn’t look like a person that she knew, rather someone she had seen in a magazine or in print somewhere. Then she remembered a cd cover. He looked like Dan Fogelberg, the singer. If Dan Fogelberg had still been alive, this guy would be his doppelganger.

  Joe asked, “Do you recognize him?”

  “Yes,” Sylvia said, surprised at her conviction. “It’s him. He was the man with Joyce at the grocery store.”

  Joe gave a sigh of relief.

  “How did you find him?” Sylvia asked Joe.

  “He has a record,” Joe stated, “in Pennsylvania.”

  An officer entered the interrogation room and introduced himself. Sylvia didn’t catch his name, but she had seen him around the station.

  “Mr. Montrose?” the officer asked, “Mr. Kenneth Montrose?”

  The man nodded.

  “Do you know why you’re here?” the officer asked.

  Confusion and belligerence crossed his face briefly, but he shook his head.

  “Where were you the night of December 31st?” the officer asked.

  Something dawned on Kenny’s face. “I was here,” he said, “in North Bay. Until about ten o’clock,” he paused, “hey, this isn’t about running a red light, is it?”

  The officer almost laughed, “No, this isn’t about running a red light.”

  “Mr. Montrose, can you tell me about your involvement with Mrs. Joyce Capaselli?” the officer asked.

  “Joyce?” he asked. “Yeah, we had some good times together, but I haven’t heard from her in a while.”

  “What are you referring to as ‘good times,’” the officer asked.

  “She,” he paused again, “Joyce, she and I had sex together.” Quietly he said, “She was
a mighty fine fuck.”

  “What were you doing with Mrs. Capaselli on the night of December 31st?” the officer asked.

  Kenny looked startled for a moment, “I was here, in North Bay, with Joyce,” he answered honestly. “She has a place down here on the bay. We went to the store, made some food at her house and had sex. She thought she heard something and thought it might be her husband and she told me to leave. So I left.”

  “What time was that?” the officer asked. “What time did you leave Mrs. Capaselli?”

  “About ten o’clock,” Kenny confirmed again. Some kind of revelation came to Kenny. “Hey, what’s this all about?” he asked. “Why are you asking me about Joyce Capaselli? Did that bitch say I took something from her, because I didn’t. I just left that night,” he insisted, “like she wanted me to.”

  “Just a moment, Mr. Montrose,” the officer said. “You said you left Mrs. Capaselli at ten o’clock on the evening of December 31st?”

  “Yes,” Kenny confirmed.

  “And Mrs. Capaselli was alive and well at the time you left her?” the officer asked.

  “Yes!” Kenny insisted. “We had just had sex. She was…” his face softened in the remembrance, “you know, women, after sex, they’re all soft and lovely,” he ended. Realizing what he said, he blushed. Then a realization came to him from the officer’s statement. “Is something wrong with Joyce? You asked me if she was alive and well. Is she okay?”

  “She’s dead,” the officer said matter-of-factly.

  “Oh.My.God,” Kenny stated with shock. “That’s why she didn’t answer my phone calls.”

  “Can you tell me again how you left Mrs. Capaselli?” the officer stated again.

  “I told you,” Kenny said, “we had just had sex. She was in bed!”

  “Did you hear the noise Mrs. Capaselli was worried about?” the officer asked.

  Kenny concentrated hard in remembering. Sylvia thought if his brain would be visible, small gears and wheels would be turning wildly. His disbelief was quickly turning into fear.

  “No,” Kenny stated, “I didn’t hear a noise, but she was really worried her husband would come and find us, so I left. I didn’t kill her!” he insisted.

  “What happened to her?” Kenny asked miserably. “Tell me how she died.”

  The officer smirked a little bit, “but, that’s why we’re here,” he said to Kenny. “Why don’t you tell me?”

  “I did not kill her!” Kenny insisted. “I…I didn’t love her, but we got along okay. I didn’t kill her,” he said again lamely.

  “Had you seen any of Mrs. Capaselli’s jewelry?” the officer asked.

  “Jewelry?” Kenny said, “she wore a ton of jewelry. She was always glittery. She said she liked the feel of gold against her skin.”

  Sylvia could imagine Joyce saying this easily.

  The officer stated, “We have your DNA on Mrs. Capaselli. We have a witness who saw you with Mrs. Capaselli. You have a record of some violence.”

  Kenny looked confused. “What?” he asked surprised.

  “You were in a barroom brawl,” the officer told him. “You knocked a guy out.”

  “Man, that was years ago. And I was drunk,” Kenny said. “That has nothing to do with this!”

  “Were you drinking with Mrs. Capaselli?” he asked Kenny.

  “Yeah,” he said. “Her old man liked to collect wine. She liked to drink it up. Sometimes just to get to him. You know, drink up the most expensive one he had or his favorite. Just to bug him.”

  Sylvia could imagine Joyce doing this. She didn’t know her well, but she had learned of Joyce’s nasty streak through Tony.

  The officer insisted, “You were the last person to see Mrs. Capaselli alive. You had been drinking. You have a history of drunken violence…” his voice trailed off.

  Kenny’s face was filled with fear. “You can’t pin this on me! I didn’t kill her!” he nearly shouted. Realization struck him. “I need a lawyer!”

  “Yes,” the officer said, “you will need a lawyer. You are being charged with the death of Mrs. Joyce Capaselli.” The officer began to read him his rights.

  Suddenly a rustle of leaves moved near her left. It was the Green Man! Sylvia gave a quiet, but audible gulp.

  “Are you all right?” Joe asked, glancing at her.

  “Yes,” Sylvia said back in almost a whisper, realizing that Joe could not see the Green Man. She glared at the Green Man accusingly as if to say “What are you doing here?”

  The Green Man placed a leafy hand on her shoulder and whispered in her ear, “This is not right. This is the wrong pattern.”

  In the space of a moment, while the officer was reading Kenny his rights, Sylvia realized what the Green Man was saying. She felt it too. Something wasn’t right.

  “I think he’s telling the truth,” she said to Joe. “I don’t think he killed her.”

  “What made you come to that conclusion?” Joe turned to her with the question.

  Sylvia shrugged. “Just a gut feeling,” she told him somewhat lamely.

  “You’ve been watching too much NCIS!” Joe accused with a grin.

  Sylvia gaped at him. “What do you mean?” she asked.

  “Do you watch the crime show, NCIS?” he asked insistently.

  “No!” Sylvia said, “I’ve only seen it a couple of times.”

  “Humpf,” Joe said. “Well, the one character, Gibbs, gets a gut feeling a lot.”

  “Humpf, yourself,” Sylvia retorted, annoyed. “I don’t watch NCIS,” she insisted. “I don’t know if I even remember the Gibbs character you’re talking about.”

  Joe considered her answer. “But the circumstantial evidence points clearly to Kenny Montrose,” Joe argued. “He was at the scene of the crime, his DNA is on the “vic,” I mean victim and he had been drinking.”

  “What about motive?” Sylvia asked.

  “I don’t know,” Joe answered pausing mid-sentence, “yet, other than robbery. We’re trying to trace where the jewelry has been sold. If it has,” he said, “or if he’s sitting on it somewhere.”

  Sylvia looked at Joe. It seemed to her that he was signing and sealing Kenny’s conviction. Where was a fair trial? Suddenly she was very tired. The adrenalin that had her buzzing through the interrogation had left and she felt like a limp, wet noodle.

  “May I go now,” she asked Joe. “Sure,” he said. “Sure. Thanks for your help,” Joe said. “Do you want to grab a bite to eat or something?” he glanced at his watch. “It’s early, but I could probably get off.”

  “Thanks, but no, Joe,” Sylvia said. “For some reason, I’m really, really tired.”

  Joe nodded. “It’s the anticipation,” he told her. “Now that it’s over…”

  Sylvia yawned, “I guess so.”

  “Will you be all right going home?” he asked, concerned.

  “I’ll be fine,” Sylvia said. “I just need some fresh air and a good walk with Percy and I’ll be fine,” she told him.

  “All right,” Joe said. “I’ll be talking to you soon.”

  He helped her into her coat and led her to the front where she signed out. The winter air was bracing and Sylvia took deep breaths as she stood on the top step of the police station. It was nearly five o’clock and it was dusky dark. Street lights and car headlights were on. The police station was near a busy local highway, tucked a little ways from the road. There was a small access road to the station, but it was near enough to the highway for a lot of noise. She walked to the parking lot and climbed into her car and drove home.

  Percy was happy to see her. “Let me change and I’ll take you out,” Sylvia told him. She quickly got out of her business clothes and put on comfy sweat pants, oversized sweatshirt and her shearling boots.

  “Okay, Perc,” she told him. “I’m coming.”

  Percy had raced up the stairs to her while she was changing and then raced back down to the door again.

  She put on her parka and mittens and grabbed his le
ash. They made their way down the steps and to the snowy open area in the neighborhood in the early darkness. Lights were twinkly at this time. Percy and Sylvia picked their way across the snowy ground without a flashlight.

  “Brr, Percy,” she commented, “winter still has a grip on us.”

  Sylvia shivered in the slight breeze that came off the bay. She wanted to give Percy a short walk and settle into something warm, but Percy gave a happy, little bark and the familiar rustle of leaves clued her to the Green Man next to her.

  “Hi,” she said. “You surprised me at the police station today.”

  He smiled in his usual enigmatic smile. He still did not say anything, but took her elbow and guided her over a rough patch of snow.

  “I’m thinking you were right,” she told the Green Man. “I could feel something wasn’t right, but I don’t know what.”

  “Good girl,” he said in his baritone.

  His voice seemed to boom in the quiet grey of early night. You can find the ring of truth in things,” he told her and disappeared with a rustle of leaves.

  Percy gave another bark. She wondered if it was a goodbye bark. But, Sylvia was frustrated. Here was yet another puzzling comment from the Green Man that she could not decipher. Not yet, at least. She turned to go back to the house and noticed that the Green Man had not left footprints.

  “This is why I sometimes doubt my sanity, Percy,” she told him. “Let’s go home.”

  Percy was ready and high stepped his way home with a happy trot. Sylvia couldn’t help but smile at him. She fed him his dinner and poked around the cupboard and freezer for something to eat.

  “Breakfast for dinner, Percy?” she asked him.

  Sylvia took out a small frying pan and cooked up a quick cheese omelet. She had some microwave turkey sausage too. Dinner completed, Sylvia made her way to the study and settled in to watch television. She surfed through the channels between bites of omelet and sausage and noticed the program NCIS was on. It was the one Joe had talked about. She watched the program. The beginning was a bit violent, but the mystery was well written. Sylvia went back to put her empty plate in the dishwasher and poured a glass of wine. She found herself watching a second and then a third program before her eyes kept closing while watching the television.