Rivaled in Murder

by Helen Gray

  "So what's your co-pilot's name?"

  "That's Krypto," he said, as expected. "He's my super dog."

  "Can he do tricks?" Garrett asked, his blizzard momentarily forgotten.

  The kid smirked. "He can make food disappear."

  A cute smarty pants. Toni liked him. "You get around, don't you?"

  He shrugged. "I ride around town a lot. Krypto likes it."

  "I saw your picture in the paper."

  His grin spread. "We live near the park. When things happen around there, I get as close as I can."

  "That car in the picture, had you seen it around the park a lot?"

  "Oh, sure. I saw it all the time."

  "Had you seen the driver with the girl who was killed with him?"

  "Once or twice. He had different girls with him all the time."

  "Did you see their faces?"

  "Sure," he said, pulling a cell phone from his pocket.

  "That's quite a fancy phone for a young guy like you," she observed.

  "It's my mom's. She has me carry it when I'm riding so I can call her if I have trouble. I never do. But I take pictures with it." He began to scroll through his collection.

  "Here's one," he said, holding it up for Toni to see. Gabe and Garrett peered at it from opposite sides of her."

  "She's pretty," Gabe pronounced.

  The boy moved to another. Then another. The faces weren't always clear, but it was obvious they were different, and could possibly be identified by someone who knew them. Toni wondered how much this young biker had seen that his parents surely would not want him seeing.

  "What did you think when you heard that the boy and one of those girls had been shot?"

  His cute face wrinkled up in troubled thought for several seconds. Then he tipped his head and said, "I didn't know what to think. But now I think he had too many girls."

  No kidding. "Why do you think that?"

  "My daddy says girls are jealous creatures and will fight over a boy quicker than anything."

  "I think your daddy's right," Toni said, shivering as a cold blast of wind nearly blew her off her feet. "It's been fun meeting you, Clark. Boys, I think we'd better get back in the van before we freeze. And Superman and Krypto need to get home where it's warm."

  "Bye," the boy said, waving and pushing his bike into motion.

  Well, Toni mused as she drove home, she hadn't learned a lot. It was more a matter of confirming—and expanding—what she knew and thought. And it had been kind of fun meeting the super heroes.

  Chapter 17

  Friday morning Toni called Buck and told him about the boy with phone pictures of Brant with different girls. “You said you’re talking to all the girls you can identify who dated Brant. Some of those pictures aren’t clear enough for identification, but some might be.”

  “I’ll pass the information to Detective Allen,” he promised.

  That evening Toni expected Kyle home by six o’clock. When he didn’t arrive, she figured he had been delayed at the airport. When he hadn’t arrived by seven or contacted her, she began to get concerned. Giving up on him arriving in time to eat with her and the boys, she went ahead and put supper on the table.

  After the meal, pricks against the window drew her to peek outside. A light mist of sleet was falling. Her concerns about Kyle escalated.

  At eight o’clock her phone pinged a text. It was from Kyle.

  Delayed in Canada. Been without cell service. Not sure what time I’ll make it home.

  She texted back. Stay safe and warm.

  Toni breathed easier once he had made contact, but after the boys went to bed, she couldn’t relax. She pressed her fingertips to her throbbing temples and lolled her head back in the chair. After a few minutes, she sighed and reached for her phone. She called the Brownville police station, gave her name, and asked to speak to Detective Allen.

  When told he was in the back and to hold while someone got him, she was relieved to catch him on night duty. "Did the missing Decker girl take camping gear with her?” she asked as soon as she had him on the line.

  “To the shock of her parents, it appears she did. They have a cabin they use in the summer, and we checked it, but found no trace of the girl.”

  “This doesn’t sound good.”

  “No, it doesn’t,” he agreed. “You sound tired. Get some rest. Then, if you have any more ideas, will you text me if I give you my cell number?”

  “Give it to me.” She jotted it down as he quoted it. The request made her sense that he feared the worst.

  After the call she went to bed, but couldn’t fall asleep. Statistics ran through her head from an article she had read recently that talked about the different kinds of teen killers. Some were angry, impulsive teens who acted in anger or passion. Some were teens who killed while committing a crime. Then there were the school shooters, and the teens who had an ongoing problem with a family member or friend. The statistic she couldn’t grasp was the sixteen percent of teen murderers that had no apparent motive.

  Another fact came to mind. The article had said that girls accounted for ten percent of teen murders, and that their victim was usually a parent, boyfriend, or their own child. The thought made a shiver run through her.

  Unable to shut down the flow of thoughts and images and go to sleep, she finally gave up and crawled from beneath the covers. She donned her warmest robe and started a pot of coffee for when Kyle arrived. Then she rounded up a pen, paper, and a calendar, and settled in the living room recliner. Writing out things often helped process her thinking.

  She had heard somewhere that when you hit a dead end, you should go backward. She thought back to when she had first heard about the two missing Brownville students. That had been on February second. Their bodies had been found three days later. She wrote the dates and facts on her notepad, remembering how stricken Zoe and Melody had been. Only four days later, on the ninth, those two girls had been attacked on the school parking lot here in Clearmount.

  Since then several suspects had emerged, along with the existence of cyber bullying. They had learned of rivalries and fights between the victims and two classmates, Dione Gorski and Britney Thomas. But those girls had been cleared of killing Shelby and Brant.

  The name Todd Wilkins had arisen as a former boyfriend of Shelby’s who had fought with the male victim. It was learned later that the fight had been over Brant taking advantage of Todd’s little sister.

  The more Toni thought about it, the more uneasy she felt. There were too many things still unexplained. The Brownville principal seemed convinced that Todd was innocent, but maybe he was part of the target shooting group. The girl, Linda, who seemed to be the person most linked to the cyber bullying, had gone missing, and then been found dead. And Farris Gunther, another teenager, had been run off the road and was still in the hospital.

  Toni’s gut told her Farris knew who was behind all this carnage, but he was still unable to communicate coherently. And now Angie, the teen who had waitressed and led cheers with Linda, had been reported missing.

  There was clearly a lot of rivalry among the students. But what had gone so wrong that had led to these deaths—and possibly another that hadn’t yet been confirmed.

  What was the motive for the double killings? Robbery certainly didn’t fit. And it didn’t feel random. It had to be personal. But who would have done such a thing? What kind of person? An adult? A transient? A peer? And why in that spot? Why in that manner?

  The more Toni pondered on these things, the more questions she had. The more those questions spun in her head, the more she felt compelled to find answers to them. She would find out whether Buck had learned anything about the target shooters and what guns they used. It could be fatal if more guns were out there. And Angie had to be found before anything happened to her—if it hadn’t already.

  Toni felt, as her dad would say, as bright as a burned out light bulb. Discouragement and fear ate at her.

  Wearily she lolled her head back in
the recliner. Then she raised the foot rest, lay back, and closed her eyes. When she did, a vision of her first sight of those cheerleaders rose in her mind’s eye. The sights and sounds of their noisy chatter during half time of a basketball game filtered through her brain. Most of those voices sounded cheerful, friendly, and happy. But one had not. It had sounded catty—and the remarks had been aimed at Linda. Other visions followed in flashes.

  Suddenly Toni opened her eyes, the hairs on her arms standing on end. She had the eeriest feeling she knew the answer, but she couldn’t make the final connections.

  Determination flowed through her. After so many setbacks, it was time for a comeback.

  Her thoughts were interrupted by the sounds of the garage door raising and Kyle’s truck pulling into the drive. A glance at her watch told her it was midnight. She put her pen and paper down and went to meet him.

  “Have you eaten?” she asked as he entered the kitchen from the garage.

  “I grabbed a burger when I went to where I could get cell service.” He brushed a light kiss over her forehead.

  Tipping her head slightly, Toni subjected him to closer scrutiny. “You don’t look so good. Tough trip?”

  He grimaced. “You could say that. Got any coffee made?”

  She wrinkled her nose at him. “Of course, I do. I’ll pour some while you put your things away.”

  Minutes later he returned and sank onto the sofa near the coffee mug she had placed on the coffee table and sipped from it. “It’s hot. Just what I needed,” he said as he set it back down.

  “What happened in Canada?”

  He leaned over and removed his boots. Then he eased back and draped his arm across her shoulders. “I landed at the nearest port of entry, as instructed—and the plane was immediately confiscated. They said it was a routine check, and that they did them randomly based on the number of aircraft landing that day. They totally dismantled the plane, looked into the bulk heads and seats, and even took off the tires and checked in there. They drained the fuel systems and oil, and looked inside the fuel cells with cameras and lights. Finally, they put it all back together, the certified engineer and air mechanic signed off on it, and we were sent on our way. It was a six hour delay.”

  Toni turned toward him. “You have to be exhausted. Finish your coffee and get in bed.”

  “Yes, Ma’am,” he said in feigned meekness.

  As Toni finally fell asleep, onr question floated over and over through her mind.

  Where is Angie?

  *

  “Giving all A’s would sure make life easier,” Toni muttered to herself as she averaged quarter grades during third hour Monday morning. Her desk was cluttered with papers and reports, the only sound in the room that of her opening her grade book, flipping through the pages, and turning back to the front again.

  She struggled to concentrate on the work she had to get done. Throughout the weekend she had followed all the news reports she could locate as the search for the missing Decker girl intensified. It was hard to imagine how a young teen like that could survive very long in this bitter weather—if she was still alive.

  Once again feeling overwhelmed, the thought of retirement—without deadlines, extra duties, and stress—sounded heavenly. As that image crossed Toni’s mind, she recalled the pastor saying yesterday that a daily dose of God’s wisdom would heal the heart disease of envy.

  When the phone interrupted her thoughts, it was with reluctance that she crossed the room to it. “Hello.”

  “Delia’s working at the manor today,” her mother said. “Can you go with me after school to talk to her?”

  Toni closed her eyes for a moment and drew a fortifying breath. She blew it out slowly, and felt the tension in her body ease a bit. Mom was perfectly capable of interviewing the aide herself, but Toni understood her desire for support.

  “Are you at home?”

  “I’m on my way there from a visit to the manor.”

  “Shall I pick you up and leave the boys with Dad?”

  “Of course. You know he’ll love it.”

  Toni agreed and returned to her grade averaging.

  After school, the boys were thrilled at hearing they were to hang out with Grandpa again. Toni hoped the temperature didn’t drop enough to turn the light shower that was falling into more sleet. She braked to a stop in front of her parents’ house, but left the motor running while the boys climbed out.

  “Thanks for doing this with me,” Faye said as she slid into the front passenger seat Gabe had just vacated.

  Ten minutes later they walked into Sunbeam Manor. As they crossed the lobby, Toni observed the residents closer than usual—from a fresh perspective. A couple of women were watching television. Another sat in a wheelchair, staring at nothing. It suddenly struck Toni that retirement, the thing that had been sounding so good, meant getting older. And being older could lead to this. These people were retired. Their children were grown and gone. Many of their spouses were gone. They were alone. Sick. Or even incapacitated.

  The images and sensations of aloneness suddenly made her realize just how good her life was. Sure, she had a lot of responsibilities, and sometimes despaired of ever getting everything done. But she had her husband, sons, and family. She had a job that she loved—most of the time. She had a church family. It was too good to wish it over.

  She took another deep breath, ignoring the medicinal odors, and resolved to not let envy and discouragement sap her energy and joy—to be more thankful for what she had. She must savor every minute of it.

  Faye gripped her arm, bringing her back to attention. “Look. There she is.”

  Toni followed her mother’s line of vision. Delia sat next to a wheelchair bound resident, spooning something into the woman’s mouth.

  “That’s Mrs. O’Neal,” Faye said. “She’s diabetic, so she’s probably having a snack. Wait here. I’ll be right back."

  Toni watched her mother go over and speak to Delia briefly. Then she nodded and returned to where Toni waited. “She can take her break as soon as she gets Mrs. O’Neal back to her room. She’ll meet us in the break room.”

  They exchanged slight grins at the mention of the break room. Toni hoped this visit to it would be less hostile than the one with Connie Ebert.

  They took seats on a lobby sofa while the aide fed her patient. When Delia pushed the wheelchair from the room, Faye dug some money from her purse. “Let’s get her a soft drink.”

  Toni grinned. “Are you hoping to soften her?”

  Faye groaned at the weak pun. “Come on.”

  Five minutes later, Delia joined them in the break room. She smiled when she saw the cold drink on the table. Faye motioned at it. “Have a seat, and a cold one on me.”

  Delia scooted onto the chair and took a hearty swallow. Heavyset, in her late thirties, and unadorned with makeup, she seemed comfortable in her own skin. But dark circles ringed her eyes. She set the drink down. “What do you need, Mrs. Nash?”

  From the small sofa at one side of the room, Toni watched Faye adopt her mother hen persona and set about putting the woman at ease. “You seem to enjoy your job here,” she said. “How long have you done this kind of work?”

  Delia took another drink from her soda. “I’ve been working in nursing homes for about ten years, but only the past six have been at this one.”

  “They have good benefits here,” Faye said. “Insurance is an expensive necessity. How in the world could you afford your own premiums and also a life policy on Mavis?”

  At the sudden turn of topic and tone, all trace of friendliness disappeared from the aide’s face. “That’s personal,” she snapped, her cheeks flushing. “And it’s none of your business.”

  Suddenly Faye’s demeanor also changed, becoming severe. “Should we ask your employer if you make enough to afford it? We realize you have a kid in drug rehab, and your husband has been laid off from his job for months. Yet you paid premiums on a policy, on a resident you claim is your stepmother when
she’s not.”

  The sheer look of fear and frustration that came over Delia’s face made Toni feel sorry for her, but only for a moment. She quickly reminded herself of the role the woman had played in Mavis’s death.

  “You suddenly have an insurance payoff to cover your bills,” Toni said, unable to remain silent any longer. She left the sofa, slid onto a chair at the table, and leaned forward to stare directly into Delia’s eyes. “How far did you have to go to get the payoff on that policy? What did you do for it?”

  Delia’s face twisted, and her eyes turned shiny with unshed tears. Her fists clenched, and she shook her head back and forth. “I didn’t do anything. I never hurt anyone.”

  “There was another resident who died similarly a few months ago, and you had a policy on Harold that listed you as his stepdaughter, just like with Mavis. Your parents live in St. Louis and have for years. You don’t have a stepmother or stepfather. You killed those two people, and maybe more, to collect an insurance benefit.”

  “No, no,” Delia wailed, rising to her feet. “I didn’t kill anybody.”

  “They were under your care. They were killed, and you’re the person who profited from their deaths.”

  “No, no,” she repeated, shaking her head frantically. “I didn’t. I couldn’t. I don’t have access to drugs or anything like that. And I wouldn’t know how to give a shot if my life depended on it.”

  Toni exchanged a silent look with her mother.

  “How did you know a shot killed them?” Faye asked, her voice gone accusingly cold.

  Delia froze for a moment, her eyes darting wildly back and forth between Toni and Faye. “I didn’t,” she choked between sobs. “I swear I didn’t.”

  “Yes, you did,” Toni stated relentlessly.

  “No, I didn’t.”

  “But you know who killed them. Are you going to tell the truth, or take the blame for her?” She said it as if certain of the killer’s identity. Well, she was. But they needed proof. And she didn’t want to air the name first.