The Mystery Trip

by Helen Naismith

  As she spoke, Valerie noticed her mother’s sad, dejected expression, which clearly revealed her concern for both women and the fact that Claire had lost her life in such a violent way.

  “We can stay several more days if you want to,” she said gently, “but their families are here and we can keep in touch from home. Rosemary will be going home in a day or two, and no doubt Meg will be transferred to a hospital in Massachusetts when she comes out of ICU, and you can visit her there.”

  Valerie was being optimistic, and Anne knew it. She’d seen the gunshot wound on Meg’s arm, the ugly bruise on her head, and knew she had lain unconscious on the kitchen floor all night. She was relieved to learn she was still alive when the medics finally got to her. Though the surgery was successful in repairing her elbow, she wondered about her head wound. How serious was the concussion? She knew blows to the head could cause brain injury, many very serious, sometimes even fatal.

  And what about Rosemary? And poor Claire?

  There wasn’t much Valerie knew at this point. After being notified by the deputy that morning, she had called the hospital and was allowed to speak with her mother. Anne told her Claire had died, that Meg had also been shot, and Rosemary was suffering from shock. She came directly from Logan International Airport to Anne’s hospital room and hadn’t spoken with anyone from the Lodge. Anne kept asking the nurses about Meg and Rosemary, but they couldn’t, or wouldn’t, tell her anything more than that Meg was in ICU and Rosemary was resting down the hall from her. Maybe Dr. Simmons would tell them more in the morning.

  Even though Anne was remaining overnight only for observation, Valerie was allowed to stay in her room that night. She refused a cot and slept in the lounge chair, dosing off and on throughout the night. In the morning, she took her bag into the restroom and freshened up, then sat with her mother to wait for Dr. Simmons.

  But it wasn’t Dr. Simmons who came into Anne’s room early Monday morning, but Sheriff Jack Redmond, accompanied by a deputy and two detectives from the state crime scene unit. As they introduced themselves to Anne, the sheriff received a call. Excusing himself, he stepped outside. In a matter of minutes, he returned and motioned to one of the detectives to join him in the hall.

  “That was the state police in Warwick, Rhode Island. They’ve found the Navigator and have four men in custody.”

  “Did he say who they were?”

  “Yes. Four kids from New Hampshire. Looks like they might be the ones we’ve been looking for. Let’s get the attorney general to work on extradition and go get them.”

  The men returned to Anne’s room and the sheriff addressed Anne. “Sorry we bothered you, Mrs. Ferguson. We must leave, but we will need to speak with you later.” Turning to Valerie, he said, “Please call my office and let us know how we can contact her.”

  When Valerie told him her mother would be released that morning and their plan was to get her things from the Lodge and return home to Cape Ann, he wasn’t prepared to let them leave. Not yet.

  Leading Valerie into the hall, he said, “It’s very important that I speak with your mother.” Then, lowering his voice, he said, “The doctors are not very hopeful about the woman who was shot, and the other woman is very weak emotionally. We really need more information from your mother.”

  “I understand. We’ll stay another day if it’s absolutely necessary, but not at the Lodge. I’ll find a hotel.”

  “Please let my office know where you’ll be staying. I’ll call you later today.”

  As Valerie returned to Anne’s room, the sheriff caught up with the other officers who were waiting for him in the hall. Within the hour all four, plus the assistant attorney general in possession of arrest warrants, were speeding down Route 93 toward Providence. Their destination was the Rhode Island State Police barracks in Cumberland, where the fugitives were being held.

  They arrived at the facility shortly after noon and were met by the officer-in-charge, who gave them a detailed report of the capture. Aware of the BOLO, a Warwick police officer was heading back to headquarters at the end of his shift at seven o’clock when he noticed a black Navigator with Massachusetts license plates parked at the Green Acres Motel. He checked it out and realized it was the SUV involved in the New Hampshire murder. He did everything by the book. He called for back-up and checked with the manager to learn what room its occupants were in. The teens didn’t give any trouble when they were awakened a short time later by the police banging on their door.

  “They’re not hardened criminals,” the lieutenant told his New Hampshire colleagues. “Just a bunch of stupid teenage kids who messed up the rest of their lives. We found the gun and the women’s pocketbooks in the SUV. They said they didn’t use any of the credit cards, just the cash they took from the wallets. Guess they were smart enough to know they’d leave a paper trail.”

  Then he said something that surprised and, although he wouldn’t admit it at the time, pleased Jack Redmond.

  “For what it’s worth, they said the Healy kid wasn’t with them at the house, that they picked him up later for a joy ride. That’s something you’ll need to check out. Sounds like he might be just hanging around with the wrong element.”

  Shaking his head, he added. “They’re scared stiff. They didn’t talk much, but I got the feeling they’re not even sure what happened in that house. But you take a gun to rob somebody, it’s bound to end up bad. Sounds like they were all boozed or doped up. I’m surprised they didn’t wreck that Navigator.”

  “They sure ruined the lives of some very special people,” said Jack Redmond sadly.

  It took twenty-four hours for the due process of Rhode Island and New Hampshire state laws to be completed. When all t’s were crossed and all i’s dotted, a caravan of six vehicles headed back up Route 93 to New Hampshire. In the lead was Sheriff Jack Redmond and the attorney general, followed by four New Hampshire State Police cars, each carrying one of the teens, who had been separated immediately according to police protocol. The last vehicle was a flatbed truck carrying the Lincoln Navigator, which would be impounded in Concord and searched for evidence.

  The lieutenant was right: the prisoners were not hardened criminals; they were scared teenagers whose actions propelled them into the adult world of harsh reality and responsibility. The police escorts reported that all four were nervous and quiet during the three-hour drive back to Woodbridge Notch – Stanley and Herbie, fighting back tears; the Hayes brothers, stone-faced; neither saying a word until they had a lawyer. Obviously, they had been down this road before, but not for a charge as serious as Murder One. This was more serious than stealing white dinner dishes. Far more serious.

  Chapter 30

  When Anne was released from the hospital on Monday morning, Valerie drove her to the Lodge to get her clothes and other things she had left in the bedroom at the top of the stairs.

  As they approached the entrance, they saw a sheriff’s car parked at the curb. Valerie slowed down as a deputy got out and walked toward them. When she told him who they were and why they were there, he allowed them to enter.

  “An officer up at the house will let you in, but don’t disturb anything. Just take what you need and be careful. It’s not a pretty sight up there right now.”

  Anne didn’t need to hear that. She was reluctant to return to the Lodge at all, but felt she could not let Valerie go alone. Anne told her exactly where to go and what to do: go in the front door, turn to the left and go up the stairs to the bedrooms on the second floor. Her room was at the top of the stairs, directly across the hall. She also told her the items to look for and where to find them: her luggage, her toiletries, her clothes in the dresser and closet, the gifts she bought, and her purse in the drawer of the night table. And she wanted her to hurry. She didn’t even want her to go to the kitchen to get her trifle dish in the refrigerator; she’d buy another one sometime.

  Valerie had been to the Lodge as a child, but that was a long time ago. It was beautiful then; now it was a crime
scene. A horrible, violent crime scene. The yellow police tape surrounded the exterior of the Lodge and a sheriff’s cruiser was parked in the driveway in front of the portico.

  When she pulled up behind it, a deputy stepped out and addressed them respectfully. Obviously he’d received a call from the officer at the curb and knew this was one of the women who had survived the attack.

  “Please let me know if I can help you,” he said to Valerie as she emerged from her rental car.

  “I’ve come for my mother’s things. They’re upstairs in one of the bedrooms.”

  “I’ll go up with you and help carry them down,” he offered.

  “Thank you.”

  Anne watched as they disappeared into the house, her eyes filling with tears as she relived the horror of what she saw that night. She glanced to the left of the portico and saw in the distance the spot in the stone wall where she entered into the woods on Sunday morning. Was it only yesterday? So much has crowded into her mind and her senses these past few days. Will life ever be normal again? she wondered. But she was a woman of strong faith and she knew, as she so often told others in times of great sorrow, “this, too, shall pass.”

  “But, oh Lord,” she whispered, “I’ll never, ever, get over the loss of dear, sweet, wonderful Claire.”

  As she sat in the car, she realized for the first time that her white Mercury Sable was still in the portico, parked exactly where she left it when she arrived Friday afternoon. She would have to drive it back home, but not today. Tomorrow, after a night’s rest, she’d follow Valerie. She could do it. She had to.

  It didn’t take Valerie long to gather her mother’s things. Within a very short time, she returned to the car carrying a large shopping bag, followed by the deputy with Anne’s luggage and a second shopping bag. Together, they placed the items in the trunk of the car. Valerie thanked him and got into the driver’s seat while he walked around to the passenger’s side to speak to Anne.

  When he leaned down at the passenger’s window, Anne told him about her car in the portico. She said they’d be staying in the village overnight and would pick it up tomorrow.

  “If you tell me where you’ll be staying, I can bring it to you,” he offered.

  “That’s very kind of you,” said Anne, reaching into her bag for her car keys, which she passed through the window to him. Her purse had been given to Valerie by one of the deputies who had searched for the women’s purses, but only Anne’s was found as she had taken it to her bedroom.

  Valerie told the young deputy they hadn’t found a place yet, they had come for her mother’s things first. But they’d be seeing the sheriff later in the day and would let him know where they’d be staying.

  Again addressing Anne, he said, “I’m very sorry for the loss of your friend, Mrs. Ferguson. We’ve known the Benson family a long time, and we’re all real sorry about this. I hope the other two ladies make it.”

  Anne looked up into the face of the handsome young officer, whose clear blue eyes showed genuine concern.

  “Thank you,” she murmured. “It’s very sad. It shouldn’t have happened.”

  “You’re right. We’re all shocked. But they got the guys who did it, and they’ll never hurt anyone again.”

  Anne, numb with sadness, nodded. She didn’t want to know anything about the men responsible for Claire’s death and injuries to her friends. She knew at some point in the future, she’d learn who they were and how they were captured. But for now, she didn’t want to talk about it. The young deputy understood and, without further comment, withdrew.

  Valerie again thanked him for his help as she started the car. Turning it around, she headed slowly down the driveway. He watched as they drove away, wishing he could have met that pretty girl under more pleasant circumstances.

  “I’d like to find a quiet place to stay tonight, Dear,” said Anne. “Someplace private, where we won’t be disturbed. Maybe a bed and breakfast if we can find one.”

  They had reached the end of the drive and again were approached by the deputy guarding the entrance.

  “Were you able to get everything you wanted, Mrs. Ferguson?” he asked respectfully.

  “Yes, I believe so, thank you.”

  Then Valerie asked him if he knew of a quiet bed and breakfast in the village, which he did and gave her specific directions to the Willows Inn. She thanked him, then asked that he tell the sheriff where they would be because he wanted to talk with her mother later today. She also mentioned that the other deputy would be bringing Anne’s car to her where they’d be staying.

  Willows Inn was exactly what Anne wanted and needed: a charming five-bedroom New England cottage-type inn on a rise overlooking the village and the Presidential Range, which offered the privacy she sought. The owner was a retired schoolteacher named Virginia Fallon, who showed them to a room looking out on a lovely gazebo in the side garden. Valerie explained that her mother wasn’t well, and that they’d only be staying one night and leaving the next morning. A discreet woman in her late sixties, Miss Fallon didn’t ask prying questions, although she was friendly and helpful as they settled in.

  “I’m always filled on weekends during foliage season,” she told them. “A couple from New Jersey will be staying for the week, but they’ve left for the day so it should be quiet.”

  Shortly after three o’clock, Miss Fallon knocked on the bedroom door and said Valerie had a telephone call. It was Sheriff Redmond calling from Cumberland, Rhode Island, saying he would not be back in Woodbridge Notch until tomorrow afternoon and asked if she would please wait until he returned. He’d call her as soon as he got back. Although he was very polite, Valerie knew it was not a request but an order and agreed to wait for him.

  She returned to their room and told her mother that they might have to remain an extra day, that the sheriff was called out of state and wouldn’t be back until the next afternoon.

  Anne nodded, but didn’t say anything.

  “If it’s not too late, we can still go home tomorrow night, Mother,” Valerie reasoned. “I know you’re anxious to get home. But maybe if we stay a little longer we can find out more about Meg and Rosemary, maybe even see them.”

  Again Anne nodded, but again she said nothing. She understood the sheriff’s need to speak with her and agreed with her daughter. She was just sad, so very sad, and didn’t feel like talking.

  As Valerie was unpacking, there was another knock on the door, and again Miss Fallon summoned Valerie to the phone.

  “Miss Ferguson, this is Jim Farrington from the sheriff’s office. Your mother just left her car keys with me at the Endicott place?” Although it was a statement, he said it as a question as if to remind her who he was.

  “Yes,” Valerie replied, acknowledging that she remembered him.

  “I was thinking, I’m off on Wednesday and Thursday and I’ll be going down to Ipswich to visit my sister. I’ll be glad to deliver your mother’s car to her home so she won’t have to drive it back. I know she’s not feeling well.”

  His offer took Valerie by surprise and she hesitated a moment, then thought it was a good idea.

  “Are you sure? That’s very kind of you, but we don’t want to trouble you.”

  “No trouble at all,” he replied. Then he explained that he’d invited one of the deputies to a birthday party for his nephew on Wednesday and he’d come back with him on Thursday. “I’m from Ipswich; my family still lives there. We’re all getting together on Wednesday for my nephew’s birthday party. The little tyke is four years old and birthdays are a big deal in the Farrington family.”

  The scene played before Valerie’s eyes and she smiled to herself.

  “I’d really appreciate it. I didn’t like the idea of Mother having to drive back, and I don’t think she did either. So I’ll take you up on your kind offer. I can’t thank you enough. Mother will appreciate it, too.”

  She then gave him her mother’s address on Cape Ann, along with her telephone number. Then she added, “Take m
y cell number in case we’re not home when you come and we’ll make arrangements for you to leave the key somewhere.”

  Jim Farrington smiled as he wrote down both numbers. Maybe this was his lucky day, after all.

  “Sheriff Redmond called and won’t be back until tomorrow afternoon. I told him where you’re staying.”

  “Yes, he called a few minutes ago. He’s going to come by when he gets back.” Then she asked, “Have you heard anything about the women in the hospital?”

  “Nothing official, just that one required surgery. The state police are there waiting to talk with them when they can.”

  Meg had been rushed into surgery when she arrived at the hospital. Dr. Simmons had called from the scene and two orthopedic surgeons were summoned from their homes. Both were concerned about Meg’s head injury in addition to the gunshot wound in her arm. She had lain unconscious all night and was still unconscious when she went into surgery. Their skilled hands brought her through hours of delicate surgery on her elbow and all anyone knew at the moment was that she was in ICU and being monitored very closely. The surgeons considered the operation successful but were concerned about her concussion. That would be healed by a higher power.

  “If I hear anything, I’ll call you,” Jim Farrington told Valerie.

  “Mother and I appreciate your help. Thank you very much.”

  Hanging up the phone, she returned to their room and told her mother about the deputy’s offer to deliver her car to Cape Ann.

  “Everyone has been so kind,” said Anne sadly.

  “Unless you want to lie down, Mother, let’s go sit in the gazebo. It’s a beautiful day and the fresh air will be good for you.”

  For the next half hour they sat quietly in the garden overlooking the village below. Before them was a scene from a picture postcard of New England dressed in all its autumn splendor: people walking along colorful leafy sidewalks, a white-washed town hall, small family-owned shops, and a church steeple poking through flaming foliage on the edge of the common. Except for the circumstances that brought them here, it was a poignant moment for both mother and daughter.