A Distant Murder

by Donna McLean

  Addie gasped. Her head was hurting terribly now, but she hardly noticed it for the clutching fear that grasped her stomach. She tried to keep her voice even, determined to carry on the conversation as though it were a perfectly normal one, and asked, “You must have been very clever. How did you fool everyone, Miss Dowd?”

  The elderly woman looked pleased but waved the compliment away modestly. “Yes, I must say that it was very clever,” she stated. “I hid the suitcase under a bench at the far end of the depot. Then I slipped around the back of the depot and walked all the way down to the lake. It was early on a Saturday morning and since all the shops and things were closed for picnic day there was hardly any traffic. No one saw me. I was very careful to make sure that no one saw me!” She shook a finger at Addie, who nodded in shocked silence. Miss Dowd smiled at the young woman. “I hid behind some trees at the lake. I hid there nearly all day and waited for Ada to come.”

  Addie felt sick. She echoed, “You waited for Ada to come? How did you know that she would come?”

  Miss Dowd giggled. “I’m afraid that I was very clever again! I left her a note. It said that I would tell her husband everything if she didn’t meet me at the lake at three o’clock. But I signed Edgar Van Devlin’s name to the note! I copied it right off his painting!” The elderly woman burst into laughter again, hysterical laughter that ricocheted around the tiny, hot room and made the pain in Addie’s head worse.

  “No,” the young woman whispered. She stared at Miss Dowd in horror and tried to stand up, but her legs felt weak. The knees buckled and she sank down into the chair.

  Frances Dowd abruptly stopped laughing and her eyes fastened upon Addie’s shocked face. Her voice changed from mirth to anger. “You look so surprised, Ada. Just like the way you looked that day at the picnic. You were very surprised to see me instead of Edgar Van Devlin, weren’t you, Ada? But I was glad you were caught off guard. That made it so much easier to hit you with the rock and push you into the water.”

  Addie gripped the arms of the chair tightly. Her knuckles went white. She shook her head, trying to clear it of the fog that insistently clung to her brain, tried to fight the overwhelming drowsiness that crept up on her against all reason. She had to distract the crazy old woman; she had to get out of this room.

  “Frank?” Addie whispered. “What happened to Frank, Miss Dowd?”

  Miss Dowd replied coolly. “I didn’t want to kill Frank. But I had to, after you started poking your nose into our business.” Her tone became fretful, childish. “If only you hadn’t come back from the dead. Why did you come back, Ada? The dead are supposed to stay dead. Just like Frank. Frank is dead now just like you, isn’t he, Ada?”

  A cold rushing fear suddenly swept over Addie’s body. She looked up at the pale wrinkled face, the blank blue eyes staring at her, and knew that she was looking into the face of insanity. She pushed the teacup and saucer off her knees and tried to stand up, but Miss Dowd pressed her back onto the chair.

  “No, Ada, you must finish your tea.” Her voice was like that of a nanny scolding a child. “If you had finished your tea the first time you came, that terribly hot summer so long ago, you wouldn’t have gone to the lake that day. You would have just slept peacefully in my cellar for all these years, these long years. No one would ever have known. They would have believed me when I told them that you ran away with your lover. Everyone always believes me. I always tell the truth, or sometimes I turn things around to make it sound like the truth.” Frances walked around the room slowly, her shoulders drooping, and sat down on the chair across from Addie. She continued speaking as though talking to herself.

  “James was my beau. He was betrothed to me. I waited so long for him to come back from the war, to come back to me. But when he came, you were there! You stole him from me!” Her eyes were unfocused, her words jumbled. She stared off into the distant past and unheeded tears ran down her cheeks. “James,” she whispered, “James . . .”

  A sudden blast of fresh air permeated the room as the front door swung open and hit the wall with a loud thud. Addie tried to breathe deeply and turned her head, aching with every movement, trying not to listen to the sound of Miss Dowd’s voice droning on and on. She gasped as someone grabbed both her arms and jerked her up onto her feet. Relief flooded her body when she saw Pearce Allen’s handsome face and realized that Tilda was coming through the door behind him. Addie’s fingers entwined the young man’s golden brown hair as she rested her cheek upon his strong shoulder.

  The wail of sirens slammed into the hot summer air like an angry fist.

  nineteen

  “Bless your heart,” Tilda MacArdan murmured sympathetically.

  Addie grimaced at the now familiar remark. “Unfortunately my tummy is the thing that needs some blessing right now. Having one’s stomach pumped is not a pleasant way to spend an afternoon!”

  Tilda, Addie and Pearce Allen laughed at the comment, the young woman wincing a bit from the mild pain the laughter caused within her sore abdomen. Pearce Allen reached across the sofa and grasped her hand. They smiled shyly, in warmth and understanding.

  Tilda noticed their affection with a twinkle in her bright eyes. “May I get you something to eat or drink, Pearce Allen? I know Addie doesn’t care for anything right now, poor dear.”

  Addie shook her head emphatically and Pearce Allen politely declined.

  The doorbell interrupted the conversation with a jarring, insistent ring. Puddin’ ran back and forth in front of the front door, barking fiercely, until Tilda shooed him away.

  Officer Campbell stood on the front porch next to an older gentleman of distinguished bearing. “May we come in for a few minutes, Ms. Tilda? I have some news for you.”

  “Yes, Officer Douglas, come right in. Get down, Puddin’!” She clapped her hands twice and the tiny terrier ran to his doggie bed in the corner of the living room, jumped into it and curled up into a snug little ball. He watched the visitors curiously but did not step outside the bed.

  Pearce Allen stood up and held out his hand to shake hands with the policeman and the guest. Officer Campbell introduced the older gentleman as Dr. Madison. “We’ve worked together a few times in the past on particularly interesting cases,” he explained. “I thought you’d like to hear his opinion on Frances Dowd.”

  “How is Frances?” Tilda asked. “Is she doing all right in jail? Does she need anything?”

  The officer looked down at the carpet, hesitating. Then he said, “I’m afraid she passed away a little while ago, Ms. Tilda. She had been interviewed at the police station and we were preparing to take her to a mental hospital on the recommendation of Dr. Madison. She had a massive heart attack and passed away before we could transport her.”

  “Oh, my goodness! How sad,” Tilda murmured. “A mental hospital, you say?”

  Officer Campbell and Dr. Madison took the seats that Tilda offered them but declined iced tea and cookies. The physician continued the story begun by the policeman.

  “Frances Dowd spoke with me at length before her passing. From this conversation I believe she was a delusional personality, possibly even a sociopath. I can say with certainty that she had been obsessed with Dr. James McRae from her childhood and firmly believed that they would marry someday.”

  Addie said, “That’s exactly what she told me when she was giving me that awful tea. Miss Dowd said that James, my grandfather, was her beau and that they had been betrothed since childhood. It was like something out of a Dickens novel! So quaint and touching, but a little scary too. I knew it couldn’t have been the truth.”

  Dr. Madison listened with interest. “Yes, that fits with my assessment of the woman. Frances Dowd held a lifelong delusion concerning your grandfather. She probably was a classic sociopath as well. Seemingly kind, charming, even gentle, but in reality she used that charming manner to be manipulative and cunning. Such people often malign others, but in a deceptively innocent manner. Did she often say things such as, ‘I hate to say anyt
hing, but so and so does this shameful thing’ or ‘I feel terrible for him because he obviously has this shameful habit’, phrasing such comments in a way that appeared to be sympathetic, even compassionate?”

  Tilda nodded. “I always thought she had a way of giving backhanded compliments, but she said things in such a sweet manner that it was hard to tell what she really meant,” the spunky lady remarked.

  “Miss Dowd told me that the Simms family had a reputation for dishonesty, and then asked me not to mention it to anyone because she felt just terrible about saying anything so detrimental!” Addie said, remembering their cozy visit at the bookstore. She added ruefully, “And I thought she was just a confused old woman.”

  “Do you know, I think she may have started that rumor at the beauty parlor, too,” Tilda commented thoughtfully. “The one about Edgar Van Devlin being in town the day someone conked you on the noggin, Addie.”

  Officer Campbell spoke up. “Yes, you’re right about that, Ms. Tilda. Van Devlin was nowhere near Sparrow Falls that weekend. My contacts in Dundeeton confirmed his alibi and I checked out the source of the rumor with Hazel, your beautician and informant.” He grinned. The visitors chuckled and Tilda giggled in embarrassment.

  The gathering grew sober again as Dr. Madison resumed the fascinating description of the person they thought they knew. “That’s another classic sign of a cunning personality. She pretends to be sympathetic, but in actuality she’s planting suspicions, starting rumors. She probably concluded such declarations by saying something like, ‘Please don’t tell him or her I said this because it will only hurt the person’s feelings’. That’s another manipulative tactic to ensure that no one actually checks out the comment with the maligned party and subsequently discovers it to be a lie.”

  Dr. Madison grew quiet and everyone pondered the statements in reflective silence until Pearce Allen said, “That photo in the newspaper archives, the one where we spotted Frank Dowd running toward the lake, must have been taken when he saw his sister Frances just after she killed Ada.”

  “Yes, I think you’re right, Pearce Allen,” Officer Campbell said. “And thank you for finally letting me look through your grandfather’s secret file, although I wish you had shared it with me sooner,” he commented wryly.

  Everyone laughed. Pearce Allen said, “I would have given it to you if I had realized that it pointed to Miss Dowd as the murderer! That may have prevented her from harming you, Addie.” He put his arm around the young woman and hugged her.

  She smiled warmly, gazing into golden boy’s startlingly blue eyes. “No, I don’t think anyone would have figured that out, Pearce Allen. It wouldn’t have prevented anything.”

  “I agree with you there, Addie. In hindsight it looks like Deputy Simms had all the pieces of the puzzle that pointed toward Frances Dowd. The bus schedule, the notes about when she left town and when she returned, and maybe he even suspected her motives of jealousy and unrequited love. But remember, he checked out her alibi with the bus depot man—”

  “Asa Campbell,” Tilda said. “That would be your granddaddy’s second cousin, Douglas Winton Campbell!”

  “Yes, ma’am, I know that,” the officer continued patiently. “As I was saying, the bus depot man verified Miss Dowd’s alibi, so Deputy Simms was at a dead end in the investigation from that point on. Because Asa Campbell and everyone else assumed that Frances Dowd left on the early morning bus, the whole town believed her lie and the ones she told after it for many years to come. Unfortunately, the assumption worked in Frances Dowd’s favor. They believed that she was not in Sparrow Falls at the time of the murder.”

  Tilda spoke up thoughtfully. “You know, that’s an interesting human foible. A person sees Frances at the bus stop and hears that she is leaving on the bus at a certain time. That person then assumes she did, in fact, leave. But what the person saw and what actually happened are two entirely different things!”

  Pearce Allen and Addie looked at each other and laughed. The startled gathering waited curiously for an explanation from the young couple. Addie said, “Pearce Allen saw me acting like a crazy loon and wanted to get as far away from me as possible when we first met!”

  He grinned. “And you must have thought I was a total jerk, or a creep, or worse, all from the outward appearance of things. I’m glad we both found out differently.”

  “So am I, Pearce Allen Simms. I guess the old saying is true. You really can’t judge a book by its cover!”

  The cozy gathering of friends murmured in agreement. Officer Campbell stirred, his tall frame uncomfortable in Tilda’s tiny chintz covered chair. “It’s really very sad, if you think about it. Miss Dowd was a seemingly nice person, living an ordinary life among ordinary people, only becoming dangerous when she felt threatened, as we’ve all seen.”

  Tilda spoke up gravely. “But damaging others through rumors and gossip can sometimes lead to tragedy of a different sort, as you, Pearce Allen, know all too well.”

  The young man nodded, his handsome face sad. “My family has been defending Grandpa Simms for years. Maybe now all the ugly rumors will be put to rest.” He turned to Addie and squeezed her hand. “For me and my Grandpa, and for you and your family, too, Addie.”

  The doctor continued, addressing his comments to the young woman.

  “Frances was obsessed with your grandfather, Miss McRae. She imagined their friendship to be much more than it was. Then he came home after the war with a pretty young wife and baby, and Miss Dowd simply could not face the truth, that he didn’t love her, that he was merely being kind to her all those years. She felt compelled to remove anything and anyone that did not support the illusion that she and Dr. McRae were meant only for each other. I suspect that your grandfather took the baby and moved away, cutting off all remembrances of Sparrow Falls, in order to protect himself and his child. As a physician, he may have suspected Miss Dowd’s sanity all along but had no proof or basis for accusation.”

  “I seem to recall hearing about something that happened just before the war. That was before my time!” Tilda said. “I can’t remember the story exactly but it seems to me that Delcie Needles once said that Miss Dowd absolutely hated one of the older ladies in the town. Well, I couldn’t bring myself to believe it because Miss Dowd always seemed to be such a gentle soul, but Delcie said that Frances insisted to anyone and everyone who would listen that this woman was throwing herself at James McRae, chasing him and actually wanted to marry him! No one ever believed the comments and they all thought she was just making things up. The woman was an older lady; a patient of Dr. McRae’s who needed treatment for something or other on a regular basis, but Frances couldn’t see it that way. She insisted something was going on between them! It was all hogwash.”

  Dr. Madison commented, “That fits the profile of an obsessive personality disorder. Yes, that most definitely fits. She wanted Dr. McRae and was firmly convinced that every woman on the planet felt exactly the same way that she felt about him.”

  Pearce Allen asked, “Doctor, why would she kill her own brother?”

  Officer Campbell replied. “I can answer that one. She was protecting herself. Frank Dowd was always a bit foggy, but seeing Addie, who resembled her grandmother Ada so much, and all the old stories being brought up again, stirred some definite memories in his mind. He remembered seeing his sister at the town picnic just before Ada’s body was found. I guess it took the old man a while, but he finally figured out that Frances left town after the murder took place, not before, as she had been telling people for all those years.”

  Tilda gasped in surprise. Everyone looked at her. She said, “So when Frank was nearly drowned, he wasn’t trying to tell us that he followed Addie to the lake. The EMT thought he was saying the name Annie, but it was actually the name Frannie! Frank’s nickname for his sister!”

  “You got it, Ms. Tilda,” the policeman said. He stood up and the doctor followed. “Everything will come out on the news soon enough,” Officer Campbell stated, “
but I wanted you to hear it from us first.”

  “Thank you, Officer,” Addie responded.

  Tilda hugged the embarrassed policeman before he could avoid her clutches. “You done good, Douglas. I’ll tell your mama that next time I see her.”

  twenty

  “What are your plans now, dear?” Tilda’s bright eyes were fastened upon Addie’s face, eager to hear the response. They were sitting in the breakfast nook at Tilda’s house, nibbling homemade blueberry scones made from Granny Polly’s recipe, and sipping freshly brewed iced tea from tall glasses.

  Addie McRae hesitated before replying and picked up another blueberry scone. “I’m not certain. I guess I’ll return to my apartment in Florida. There’s really nothing to hold me there, though. Dad and Mom are happily retired now and they don’t really need my help or anything. I guess you could say they’re in their second honeymoon phase.” She gave a half hearted smile and nibbled the scone.

  Tilda noticed the downcast expression. She asked innocently, “Doesn’t a sweet purty girl like yourself have a special beau?”

  “I’m not dating anyone in particular. Most of my close friends have moved to other places, settled down, started families. But at least my career is going well right now. I’m just focusing on that for the present.”