“Mother, please—just leave me alone. I don’t want to eat, talk or anything. I just want to be left alone.” Lydia half expected her mother to open the door and insist on trying to relieve her daughter’s pain. That’s what mothers did. Her father would have just barged in. Aaron had been occupied on the phone when she came upstairs and that was the only reason he wasn’t hovering with her mother outside her room. It came as a relief when she heard Helen’s final sigh and the pad of her footsteps down the hall.
Lydia didn’t resent her mother’s efforts to ease the pain. She appreciated the concern. But there weren’t any words to relieve the hollow ache engulfing her. Lydia lay back on the bed. I loved him. But what did he really think of me? Was I just a convenient fuck, or did he really care about me?
She had no answer for these questions.
On top of everything else, this bastard Runyan accused her of killing Jason. What the fuck? Did he think she’d kill the man she loved over a ridiculous argument like the one they’d had? It didn’t make sense. Lydia had heard of people being wrongly accused of crimes. She’d never given it serious thought. But now she was the accused.
And Stoneroad. She’d trusted him. How could she have been so wrong about him?
Lydia rolled over and sat up, kneading her thighs with long-fingered hands. She didn’t want to eat, but the idea of a good stiff drink and a smoke suddenly had a great appeal. Fat chance. With her parents standing guard downstairs she wouldn’t stand a chance of getting out of the house. A smoke would have to do. She opened her purse, drew out an unopened pack, ripped it open with shaking fingers and drew one out. Her parents didn’t know she’d started smoking again and she didn’t need an argument with them now on top of everything else. Well, they didn’t need to know. Crossing the room, she opened the window an inch, flopped down on the floor next to it and lit her cigarette. Inhaling, Lydia shut her eyes and tried to relax as the nicotine coursed through her system.
* * * *
Most days Diana Wozniak resented the fact a person could no longer smoke in public places. Today was no exception. It had been a thoroughly frustrating day and showed no sign of speedy improvement.
She glanced out the diner window as a police officer walked by. Thank God there were no parking meters in this shit-hole town or she’d have another reason to complain about the day. The cop walked on with no more than a cursory glance at her rented car.
“How was your platter?” a female voice intruded.
She glanced up to see the waitress, a tall, thin girl with frizzy red hair, hovering at her side. “Fine,” she replied.
“You want dessert, or a refill on the coffee?”
“Thank you. I’ll have some more coffee.”
“How about a slice of pie? We got a good selection. It’s all fresh-baked and…”
Will you just get the damned coffee? Ah, it’s not her fault I’ve had a bad day. Diana gazed up with an apologetic grin. “That sounds lovely, but…” and she patted her tummy for emphasis, “my figure doesn’t need an incentive to go wild.”
The waitress giggled. “I know exactly what you mean. I gotta be careful about what I eat, too.”
“You? You’re skinny as a rail.”
“Yeah—now. Thanks to all the diets. I think I’ve tried every one there is. I’ll get that coffee.”
The diner had been crowded when she came in, but the evening rush seemed about over now. A few customers lingered in booths or sat at the counter, nursing coffees or enjoying desserts. A hum of conversation from them and the wait-staff competed with the whirr of overhead fans and the rattle of crockery and flatware as a busboy cleared vacated tables.
The waitress returned and refilled her coffee. “What’s your name?” Diana asked.
“Sally,” the girl said with a toothy grin.
“What does a person do around here after they pull in the sidewalks at night?”
Sally leaned her weight on one foot, thrusting out a hip and planting a fist on it. “Tell the truth, there haint much to do. We don’t even have a movie theater anymore. Have to run clear over to Harrisburg if you want to see a show.”
“I didn’t see any bars in town either. Do you have to go to Harrisburg if you want a drink?”
Sally laughed. “Unless you don’t mind dives. Funny thing, too, since they say this town was started by a guy who opened a tavern and made his own liquor.” She smiled and went on. “There’s a place out on the highway--the dive I mentioned. But I don’t know that it’s a place a lady should go alone.”
Diana nodded. “I saw it coming in from the motel. So, you’re saying I’d have to be awful thirsty to risk going in? I don’t know if I’d want to drive all the way over to Harrisburg just for one cocktail.”
Sally laughed again. “Tell the truth, I haven’t been there in a long time. I’ll ask some of the other girls. I kind of figured you weren’t from around here. Just passin’ through?”
“Work brought me. My name’s Diana. Diana Wozniak.” She extended a hand, and they shook.
“Where you from Diana?”
“Philadelphia.”
“No kiddin’? Philly. Huh, haint that a coincidence.”
“Oh? Do you have friends there?”
“No. I haint never been. But my roomy—she’s from Philly. Maybe you know some of the same people.”
“It’s a big city, Sally.” Diana doubted she would know any of the same people as a waitress in this one-horse town.
“Yeah. It was just a thought. You said you came here for work. What do you do, Diana?”
“I’m a reporter.”
“No kidding? What kind of story…”
Diana cut her off. This dummy couldn’t help her, and she wanted that smoke and a drink now. “I’d love to talk to you more, Sally. But I’m kind of in a hurry. Could I have my bill, please?”
* * * *
Sally couldn’t wait to tell Vickie. “Did you see that customer I was talkin’ to?” she asked.
“The one who just left? I saw you talking to her, but I wasn’t paying much attention. Why? Did she leave you a good tip?”
“Nah, just the usual fifteen percent.” Sally leaned forward, lowering her voice and touching Vickie’s arm. “But she’s from Philly, too. And she’s a reporter. Her name’s Diana somethin’ or other. I didn’t catch the last name. Maybe she can help you, Vic.”
Vickie wrinkled her brow. “How?”
“Like I said, you both come from the same place and Diana’s a reporter. I’ll bet if you told her your story she could do somethin’ with it. Maybe even find out if that Nan Calder is tellin’ the truth.”
Chapter 17
Sally had been right about one thing, Diana mused. The bar was a dive. Still, as desperate as she’d been for a drink, ambiance wasn’t of much concern. She’d had her smoke on the way out to the place called Vinnie’s and was content to sit here sipping an Old Fashioned. It wasn’t her preferred drink, but it didn’t make sense to ask for anything too sophisticated in these surroundings.
She’d chosen a stool at the bar near the entrance in case the place proved too inhospitable. Fortunately, this early on a weeknight, the place didn’t seem too busy. A few other women and men sat down the bar from her, all of them occupied with their own drinks and conversation and not bothering her, aside from the curious glances she’d received on entry. Shit-stomper music emanated from a jukebox by the door, the mutter of conversations and the occasional click of a cue against a billiard ball somewhere in the gloom of the room seemed demure in comparison to what she’d expected.
Diana smacked her lips in surprise after another sip and glanced appreciatively at the busty young barmaid. The girl didn’t make a bad cocktail. Now, if only she could have a cigarette to go with her drink this might turn out to not be a bad night. The day, on the other hand, had been a bummer.
Izzy Flint had proven to be a big disappointment. Not only had he declined to offer her a place to stay, forcing her to take a room in that dump of a mote
l, he’d refused to assist her in making contact with Stoneroad.
Who the hell does he think he is, Woodward or Bernstein?
With his little nothing operation, Diana thought he’d jump at the chance to make a few bucks and share in a real story.
Well, the hell with him. She didn’t need him.
After some pressuring, Flint had finally given her Stoneroad’s phone number. She’d tried half a dozen times, left messages and got no reply. She’d tried the number for her source and again failed to get an answer. Then, after getting directions, she’d driven out to the farm only to find the area cordoned off by police cars. She’d asked questions, but the damned trooper had insisted she move on. No one seemed to have any idea what had happened out there. It worried her. Diana had too much invested in this story to have it go sour now.
Diana came aware of being under scrutiny by a bald-headed guy who stood behind the bar nursing a beer.
Son-of-a-bitch winked at me!
He left his beer sit and sidled over to her. His gaze swept over her and he leered. “Haint seen you here before.”
“I’m not in the mood to be appraised,” she snapped.
The man chuckled. “Sorry,” he said, extending a chubby hand, “didn’t mean to be forward. I’m Vinnie. Vinnie Nungessor. I own the place.”
“Well, good for you.”
He grinned. “Whadya say we start over. I’m not hittin’ on you. I like to get acquainted with my customers. Since I hadn’t seen you before, I thought I’d introduce myself.” He extended the hand again and this time she responded.
“Sorry. I haven’t had the best of days.”
He jerked his chin at her drink. “You want another? On the house.”
“Why not?” she said with a shrug.
“Jamie,” he called to the barmaid. “Lady’d like another drink.”
“You make a good Old Fashioned,” Diana said when the girl returned with her drink.
The barmaid smiled, exposing a chipped tooth. “Thanks,” she said and moved away to allow Nungessor access to the spot again.
“So, what’s your name, stranger?”
“Diana. Diana Wozniak.”
“Yeah? You just move to town, Diana?”
“Passing through.”
“Ah, that’s a shame. Town could use more good-lookin’ women like you.”
Diana sipped her drink. “Sorry to disappoint you.”
“Yeah, well. You win some, you lose some.”
Dumb hick. Maybe he could be useful. “You live here long, Vinnie?”
“All my life.”
“You know anything about Stoneroad, the writer who moved here?”
“Only what I read in the Herald. Oh, but I did hear, there was something goin’ on out at his place today.”
“Really? What?”
“Don’t rightly know. One of my regulars who lives out that way said there was cops all over the place and they were re-routing traffic. Nobody seems to know much about it. How come you’re interested in him? You a reader, Diana?”
“Actually, I’m a reporter.”
“No shit?”
“Is your regular still here? You think I might talk to him?”
For whatever ulterior motives he might have harbored, Vinnie said, “I believe he is. Lemme go check.”
He returned shortly, followed by a tall, thin man who Diana thought even uglier than Nungessor. They breed ‘em repulsive down on the farm. Still, if he could provide information, what did it matter how he looked? Bald, save for a fringe of gray hair covering cauliflower ears, the big guy peered at her with gray eyes sunk deep in their sockets.
“This is my buddy—Earl Schurke,” Vinnie said.
The comment earned him a baleful glance from Schurke. “Folks call me Fingers,” he said, without explaining the nickname.
“Nice to meet you, Earl,” Diana said. “Vinnie says you might know what was going on out at the Stoneroad place today.” She outlined what Nungessor had told her and added her own experience.
Schurke wiped the back of a large hand across his jutting chin. “Guess you and Vin know about as much as I do,” he said. “I’m inclined to shy away from cops in the best of times. But, as many as were out there today, it must have been somethin’ harsh goin’ on.”
“But you don’t know what?”
“Nope.”
Ass-wipe. How does that help me? Her look of disdain failed to move the big ape.
“You play pool, Diana?”
* * * *
“He’s right, Sticks,” Theophilus Fisher said. “You’re too close to the situation. I can’t allow it.”
“I’m not asking your permission, Theo. I’m involved—whether you, Runyan or anyone else likes it or not.”
The district attorney scowled. He’d shown up at Anita’s place just after they’d finished dinner and his expression told Hetrick it wasn’t a social call even before Fisher said a word. Sticks expected the reaction, though he thought his boss might have waited until he came to the office in the morning.
“Are you at least going to let me in so we can discuss it?” Theo said with a hint of a smile.
“Of course.” He stepped aside and invited Fisher into the living room.
“Would you like a cup of coffee, Theo?” Anita asked. Like Hetrick, the visit, not his opinion, surprised her. Fisher didn’t often make house calls on his underlings.
“That’d be nice, Anita.”
“Have a seat,” Hetrick told him as Anita retreated to the kitchen for the coffee.
Fisher settled onto the sofa and Hetrick sat opposite him on a hassock.
“Look,” Fisher began, his manner softening a bit, “I expected you’d feel this way and I do understand. You and Aaron go back a long way. You’re friends. You’re close to the family and you know the girl better than I do. But she is a prime suspect and I can’t sanction giving you authority to interfere with Runyan’s investigation.”
Hetrick nodded. “I appreciate your position, Theo. I know the office can’t be involved. That’s why I’m going at this on my own. I have no intention of interfering with Chris’s investigation. But I think he’s wrong focusing on Lydia Brubaker.”
Anita returned and handed Fisher a cup of coffee. She took a seat on a chair behind Hetrick, leaned forward and nestled her chin on his shoulder. “Lydia is no killer, Theo,” she said. “Dan is right. Why would she kill a boy she was so infatuated with? It doesn’t make sense.”
“I can’t answer that, Anita,” Fisher responded. “I’m sure Runyan has his reasons…”
“Pretty shaky ones, if you ask me,” Hetrick told him. “She passed the GSR test, same as Stoneroad and his people. Anyone could have taken the weapon from her vehicle…”
Fisher waved a hand. “I know. It’s circumstantial. That’s why Chris hasn’t filed charges yet. He’s a good cop. You know that as well as me.” He paused for a sip of coffee. “And you’ve focused on suspects in the past with equally flimsy evidence.”
Hetrick nodded. “I know. I’m not out to sabotage his investigation. I think I can help.”
Fisher huffed. Hands on his knees, he fixed his gaze on Hetrick and nodded. “Do what you need to do. I know you well enough by now to realize nothing I say is going to keep you from doing what you feel is right. Just be sure it doesn’t blow back on the office. That’s all I’m asking.”
* * * *
A State Trooper was stationed at her door when Diana arrived back at the motel. What’s this about? She parked the rental, took the room key from her purse, and got out to confront him.
“You Miss Wozniak?” he asked as she approached.
“Yes. How can I help you, officer?”
“Would you mind coming out to the barracks with me? My sergeant would like a word with you.”
“About what? It’s late and I’m rather tired.”
He shrugged. “I’m sorry, ma’am. I have my orders. It probably won’t take long.” He gestured toward his vehicle. “We’re a sh
ort way up the road.”
Diana was inclined to argue. What did the police want with her? Why couldn’t it wait until tomorrow? The trooper’s expression told her resisting would do no good. What the hell. Might as well get it over with. She had no idea what she might have done to inspire the interest of the State Police. “Do you mind if I use the bathroom first?”
The trooper consented, and she entered the room. Now she regretted having taken Schurke up on his request for a game of pool. She’d given in hoping it might loosen his tongue if by chance the man was withholding information on what had happened at the Stoneroad farm. All she’d gained for her effort had been the expense of more drinks, inappropriate comment and obnoxious leers from drunken bystanders and delay in getting to bed for the sleep she sorely needed. Now sleep would be delayed even longer.
She used the potty—a task she had no desire to risk at Vinnie’s—splashed water on her face, rinsed with mouth wash, ran a brush through her hair, and gazed at the disturbing image in the mirror. What a mess. Well, I’m not looking to make out with this sergeant.
The trooper waited patiently till she came out and remained silent on the short drive.
“Thanks for coming, Miss Wozniak,” Runyan greeted her in his office.
“The trooper didn’t make it sound as though I had a choice,” she said, settling into an offered chair and studying him. Runyan was a tall, well-built man with close cropped gray hair. There were dark circles under his blue eyes and he needed a shave. Apparently, he’d been short-changed lately on sleep, too. “What was so urgent it couldn’t wait till morning?”
“You made several calls to the Stoneroad residence today.”
“Yes. What of it?”
“What’s the nature of your business with Mr. Stoneroad?”
“Look, what’s going on? I know something happened out there. Sure, I called. No one answered.”
Runyan yawned and scrubbed at his eyes with the knuckles of both hands. “The purpose of those calls?” he persisted.
In Silence Sealed Page 10
