Harvest Moon (Buck Valley Mysteries Book 2)

by Joshua Erik Rossi

  “No. Ava’s working with me now. The salon is closed, though. Right, Steve?”

  “That’s right.” He placed the book on the counter. “We’d like to return this book.”

  Marlene picked it up in her hands, smiling. “You don’t come to the library, Stevie. Who checked this out?”

  “JD Hayward,” I said. “We heard Mr. Reynolds used to come to the library. Did he ever meet anyone here? Argue with anybody?”

  “No. He used to sit in the History section, reading for hours. I’ll tell you, if I had known what he was, I’d have…” She paused, examining the book JD had given us. “This is not ours, Mr. Keegan. This book belongs to Ward Hillman, the English teacher.”

  I took the book back when she handed it to me. “Are you sure?”

  “Quite sure. Our books are stamped with the name of the library. This one says Property of Ward Hillman, English Department.”

  “Oh, sorry. We didn’t know that.” I felt stupid for trying to return the wrong book to the library. Who does that? I turned and headed for the door with Steve at my side.

  “Let me see it,” he said. He studied the book for clues, flipping through the pages. “I guess JD is sending us to see Mr. Hillman.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know. He must have given us the book for some reason.”

  “He knew we were coming back to town. Mountain folk will use you every chance they get.”

  “Is that so?” he asked, grinning at me.

  “I’m reformed.”

  “Sure you are. Are we going?”

  “Where?”

  “To see Mr. Hillman at the school?”

  “I guess,” I said, getting back into the truck. I drove through the streets of town wondering how many people changed because of one man. If Reynolds hadn’t been the way he was, would there be happier people in our neighborhood? Would they be nicer to each other? Is he the reason why our bars were always full, or was it due to small town boredom? How many personal demons existed because of one man?

  “Are you okay?” Steve asked.

  “Are you?” I replied.

  We lapsed into silence again. We were doing that more and more. It seemed like there wasn’t an answer. I stole a glance at him. What if it was Steve? His grandfather was getting him off, making donations to the police department…

  “I’m innocent.”

  “I didn’t say anything.”

  “You don’t have to, Keegan. You’re right. You’re not like your brother at all. Casey has the ultimate poker face. Your face shows me everything. Your dark eyes tell me even more. Have a little more faith in me, all right? I don’t have it in me to kill. Believe me.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay. I understand. You’d think we’d find something by now.”

  “Or someone,” Steve added.

  We drove to the school. Steve went in, and I stayed outside in the truck because I’m banned for life, but that’s a story for another time. It had something to do with a one-night stand, a flag pole and Mr. Giles boxer shorts. I wasn’t raised right. We’ll leave it at that. Anyway, Steve went in to locate Mr. Hillman. It didn’t take long, and Steve Lark was coming out of the school, book in hand.

  “What happened?”

  “He’s not here. Mr. Ward Hillman is at home, on personal leave.”

  “Great.”

  “I got his address. I told the secretary JD wanted us to deliver the book to him.”

  “She believed that?”

  “Yeah,” Steve said. “She’s new. I told her what you did with the principal’s boxers. She thought it was hilarious. It’s a good thing you got your diploma first, then did the deed.”

  I grinned. “So, where are we headed?”

  “Hell, they say,” Steve replied, “but Mr. Hillman lives on 201 Brandywine Lane.”

  “Rich area.”

  “Mm hmm. I guess his summer vacation wasn’t long enough.”

  I drove until we reached Brandywine and I found Mr. Hillman’s house. When I saw it, I wondered why he bothered wasting his time teaching kids. His house was the oldest, largest mansion on the hill on the outskirts of Buck Valley. In the old days, it was owned by a coal baron who built and at one time, owned the entire town.

  As impressive as it was, the mansion was creepy as hell. It was made of gray granite, marble and there were large gargoyles perched at the roof line.

  We got out of the truck and walked slowly up the steps the large polished Oak doors. A camera buzzed and moved, focusing on us as we stood there.

  The door opened.

  Chapter 13

  Mr. Hillman was tall and thin, wearing a suit even while he was on leave from teaching. His face was lined and wrinkled. His wavy gray hair was combed, and the color of it matched his thin mustache. “Well, Steven Lark and Seth Keegan. How nice to see you together. Come in.”

  I considered hauling ass back to the truck but Steve, who is shorter and not as strong as I was, went right through the door like there was chocolate cake on the other side. I bit my lip and stepped in.

  “Follow me.”

  I held my breath as he led us to his personal study where books lined the walls from top to bottom.

  “JD asked us to return your book,” Steve said, handing it to him.

  Mr. Hillman examined it slowly and sat down behind his desk holding it in his lap. “It’s one of my favorites. It’s a classic tale of lies and deceit. Have a seat, boys, please. Thank you for coming to see me.”

  I looked around for ways to escape. One closed door and two closed windows.

  “Are you all right, Seth? How is your father?” he asked.

  “He’s...okay. The same.”

  Mr. Hillman nodded. “Would you like a drink, either of you? Help yourself. It’s over there. Time flies, does it not?”

  I got up and went for the whiskey. “Sure does,” I agreed. I was hoping it would fly me right out of that room. I’d rather be confronted with Johanna Rogers, the ghost, and Old Tom’s spirit any day. Mr. Hillman, in the flesh, was rattling my nerves. I lifted the whiskey glass but never got a drop of it because I turned around and found him crying.

  “I was such a fool. You boys have no idea how it warms my heart to see the two of you together. It was all together different in my day and a thousand times worse if you fell in love with a man...a man who wasn’t a homosexual.”

  I glanced at Steve. He didn’t know what was happening either.

  “You fell for a straight guy?” Steve asked him.

  “Yes.” He dabbed his eyes with a white handkerchief he had folded in his pocket.

  “That’s so sad, honey,” Steve said. “I’m sorry.”

  “You have no idea how sad. I fell in love with a man who lied to me. He claimed he loved me, but when I discovered the horrible truth, I was devastated. I was absolutely beside myself. There were times when I questioned him. Sometimes, his actions did not add up. To profess love and yet…” He sighed and sadly shook his head. “Yes, I was the biggest of fools.” He opened a desk drawer and brought forth from it a silver dagger, covered with dried, dark red blood. “I found the truth, his truth, and I could not allow it to continue. He was a very sick man.”

  I drank the whiskey down. All of it. I swallowed. It burned my throat and gut at the same time.

  Steve stared at him, hard. “You were in love with Mr. Reynolds.”

  “Oh yes. For an eternity, it seems. He said we had to keep our love a secret. It wouldn’t bode well for two male teachers to become a couple, teaching at the same middle school. I feel as though I should apologize to you Steven and to all the others he harmed, but you must believe me, I did not find the truth until recently. If I had known, I would have ended it much sooner. Seth, would you hand me the whiskey?”

  I took the bottle and a glass to him. He poured a drink and added more to my glass, also.

  I drank it.

  “I went to see Joseph, and I was sitting at his desk, waiting for him to co
me out of the bathroom. We were going to the theater in the city. My elbow bumped the mouse and his computer screen brightened. He’d neglected to shut it off. Well, I’m sure you know what I witnessed. I have never been so angry. All night long, I kept my silence. We went to the show. We had dinner at our favorite restaurant. We always went to these far out of the way places where we wouldn’t be recognized. However, a waitress recognized him. She was rather flirty and he was enjoying it! I realized then, he’d made a fool of me. All these years, he used me for my money! He was not at all what he claimed to be. He was a pedophile, a liar and a thief.”

  Steve leaned forward in his chair, clasping his hands together. “Mr. Hillman, did you kill Mr. Reynolds?”

  “You bet your sweet ass I did. I asked him to come to the river, where we could finish our romantic evening under the stars. I told him I’d written poetry in honor of our relationship.” Mr. Hillman pushed the dagger across the desk to Steve. “Here’s my poetry in motion. Do you like it?”

  “Don’t touch that,” I said to Steve. The last thing he needed was to have his fingerprints on the murder weapon.

  Steve lifted his chin and met Mr. Hillman’s steady gaze. “Thank you, Sir.”

  “You’re quite welcome. I suppose you should call the police. I am aware of the consequences of my actions, and I’m prepared to face them. Joe Reynolds had to be stopped. He was the sort who would never be well.”

  “Was JD involved in this?” I asked. “Why did he have your book?”

  “He had nothing to do with it. You see, I met JD last Christmas when he came around, selling the most beautiful pine wreaths. On occasion, JD came to visit and we spent time together. It is my only consolation. At least I have known true love before I’m cast off to prison. JD is an innocent, sweet young man, and he is of age, I remind you.”

  “Right. Okay,” Steve said. He stood up and took his phone out of his pocket as he walked out to the hallway.

  I didn’t know what to say or do. The murderer, the killer was right in front of me, but I wasn’t afraid or relieved. Somehow life became twisted. Was Mr. Hillman a hero? Had he saved countless other boys from the same horror that Steve had been subjected to? Or was he a deranged killer, who stabbed someone twenty-eight times?

  “You’re surprised, Mr. Keegan. I can see it in your eyes,” he said.

  “I...I wasn’t expecting a confession.”

  “May I tell you a short story before they take me away?”

  “Uh okay.”

  “Do you remember the day your father came to the school? You had been involved in some mischief, and I could see you were embarrassed when he arrived. Edgar Keegan was quite different than the other parents, wasn’t he?”

  “Oh yeah,” I agreed.

  “Yet your father said something to me I never forgot. I explained that boys at the age you were, sometimes get into exchanging pranks with the other boys. I told him there was no harm done. Do you know what he said?”

  “There’s right, and there’s wrong,” I replied.

  Mr. Hillman sat back in his chair and raised his glass. “Precisely,” he said, and a satisfied peaceful expression came to his face. “I did what I had to do. It was the right thing to do.” He paused. “That was before you strung Mr. Giles boxers up on the flag pole. Well played, Keegan. Well played.” He smiled and drank his whiskey, finishing it before the police arrived.

  Chapter 14

  All of the charges against Steve were dropped, and the lawyer never came from New York. I didn’t ask if he was still planning on a visit to the city over Christmas to see his grandfather. At the time, I didn’t want to know.

  I’d seen too much, and learned more about this town than I wanted to.

  My childhood and teen years in the mountains would bless me with an ignorance I’d choose now, if I could. But I’m afraid, that innocence is lost. Yes, my father made moonshine, and he was breaking the law. Casey delivers it to this day. In my own mind, I’m not sure if they’re criminals or private business owners. For me, sometimes, the line between right and wrong, blurs when it shouldn’t. Do we see things the way we wish them to be, or the way they are?

  Mr. Reynolds was a criminal, and he deserved to die. Mr. Hillman sacrificed his career to see it through. He found justice in his actions. The judge ruled in his favor, but I wonder if he paid for freedom the way Steve’s family was planning too?

  As it turns out, justice can be bought and paid for. It’s all the justice you can afford.

  Halloween came and went. The kids in their costumes went door to door, gathering treats in their sacks. I sat on the steps of the diner, dressed up as the Hulk passing out chocolate candy bars. Beside me, on the steps of the salon, was a really good-looking Spiderman with great hair. We didn’t talk much. I think we were overwhelmed at how many kids there were in town. Somehow, after Mr. Reynolds, it wasn’t the same as before. One of the kid’s fathers put his hands in the pockets of his flannel coat, and he pulled out two cans of beer. He gave one to Steve and one to me. He didn’t say a word, but I think I know why he did it.

  The laughter from the kids was loud when they saw how much candy they’d collected from us, but it faded as they walked down the street.

  Listen. When I was young and I lived on the mountain, Ma said don’t go near the river at night. Turns out, it wasn’t the river we had to worry about.