In a Midnight Wood

by Ellen Hart

  “That’s right. It will be the first reunion event.”

  “Official event?” He opened a package of egg noodles and tossed them into the boiling water, stirring to make sure nothing stuck.

  “Well, no. The only official event is on Saturday night. But there are some brunches planned for Saturday and Sunday. You know, stuff like that.”

  He added the cognac to the mushrooms, let it evaporate a little, then tossed in the dill, a large pinch of paprika, more salt, and a few grinds of pepper. “The bonfire sounds fun.”

  “I hope so. We’ll have grilled hot dogs, potato chips, easy stuff like that. And, yeah, a keg. Seemed appropriate.”

  “You need someone to man the grill?”

  She knew where this was headed. “You’re not part of our class, Scott.”

  “So? Nobody would care.”

  “I’ve got it covered.”

  “Okay. Just asking. Why don’t you open the wine?” He handed her a corkscrew.

  She was having trouble reading him. He didn’t seem angry. He didn’t seem anything, really, just focused on preparing dinner.

  When the noodles were done, he dumped them into a colander and then into a bowl, adding a couple pats of butter to coat them. Returning to the sauté pan, he added the beef slices, the sour cream, and a spoonful of the mustard, waiting until everything heated through. Giving it one last taste, he pronounced it perfect. “Go sit at the table.”

  Emma carried the glasses and the wine bottle over. She watched him dish up their plates.

  “Thank you,” she said as he set a plate in front of her.

  They ate in silence for the next few minutes.

  “I had a visitor at the bank today,” Scott said finally, pouring them each more wine. “The woman who’s staying at your house. I believe her name is Lawless.”

  “Oh? What did she want?”

  “To talk about Sam. And me. She asked if we were fighting before he went missing. Hard to miss her point. She thinks I’m the one who murdered him.”

  “Come on, Scott, I’m sure she wasn’t saying that.”

  “Sam apparently told Jim Hughes that I was about to ruin my life and that he was the only one who could save me.”

  “Is that true?”

  “Jeez, no. My brother could be so freakin’ self-important. Who the hell did he think he was, telling me how to live my life?”

  Just like two nights ago, the mention of the fight had darkened his mood. “If you want to talk about it—”

  “Just stop, okay? You’re not my therapist. You’re not my mother. I’m not even sure you’re my girlfriend.” He shoved his plate away.

  “Listen, Scott—”

  “No,” he said, running his hands over his face and then through his hair. “I’m sorry. We need to change the subject.” He pulled his wineglass in front of him. “So, um, you still planning on heading back home next week?”

  “Philip said he’ll pick me up at the airport. I’m not sure why he’s being so nice.”

  “Probably wants to get back with you.”

  “I doubt it. His girlfriend dumped him, so he’s got some free time on his hands.”

  “If you were my wife, Emma, I’d never treat you like that.”

  “I’m never getting married again.”

  “You don’t mean that.” He took a sip of wine. Then another. “You’re going to miss a lot of people here when you leave.”

  “I suppose.”

  “Especially Kurt Steiner.”

  “Like you said, I’ll miss a lot of people.”

  “But Kurt—you two seem especially close.”

  “He’s a good friend.” She didn’t like where this was headed.

  “Just a friend?”

  “Yes, Scott.”

  “A friend with benefits?”

  She fought the urge to stab him with her fork. “No.” And then something occurred to her. “How do you know Kurt and I are good friends?”

  He shrugged. “I’ve seen you with him. You don’t hide your relationship, like you do with me.”

  “There’s nothing to hide. We’re on the same reunion committee. That’s all.”

  “Oh, I see. And you had these committee meetings while you were fishing on Chipping Lake?”

  “How do you know we went fishing there? Were you following us? Scott? Tell me.”

  “You cheated on me, Emma. Just like Philip cheated on you. Just say it. You’ll feel better if you do.”

  She pushed back from the table and stood. “I’m done, Scott. I’m not having a conversation with a man who’s been stalking me.”

  He toasted her with his wineglass, then drank it dry. Picking up the bottle, he followed her to the door. “If you leave, you’ll never know how much I love you.”

  “Stalking isn’t love.”

  “I wish you wouldn’t use such a charged word.” He stepped around her, blocking her exit.

  “Move, Scott.”

  “Or what?”

  She was getting that feeling again, the one that warned her that he might not let her leave. Only this time, it was more than just a feeling. “I’ll scream.”

  He held her eyes. “Now why would you do that? I would never hurt you.”

  “I’m counting to three. I’m a loud screamer, Scott.”

  He waited a millisecond too long, enough to make her start looking around for a weapon. Then he smiled. “See you soon, Emma.”

  “I hope not,” she said, lurching out into the hallway. He stood by the door, watching her as she rushed for the stairs. She wasn’t about to wait for the elevator. Not this time.

  23

  The Brick Town Tavern, a place with a blue-collar, dive-bar vibe, wasn’t exactly what Jane had in mind when she’d agreed to have dinner with Cordelia. Not that she had anything against a good dive bar, but when it came to food, she’d been hoping for something a little more upscale.

  “Oh, come on,” said Cordelia, breezing her way to a table. “You’d rather have a burger than a steak any day. Am I right?”

  “I suppose,” said Jane. Steaks generally bored her. Still, she wasn’t sure why there were only two choices for dinner.

  “I asked around and this place supposedly has, by far, the best burgers in the known universe.”

  When the server arrived, they both ordered Grain Belts. “And we need menus.”

  The young waitress looked at them with unconcealed annoyance. “We don’t do menus. We serve burgers and fries. That’s it. No turkey burgers or vegan stuff. Just the real thing. We got pretty much any toppings you can think of.” Jutting out a hip, she added, “Just an FYI. The fries are cooked in lard and the burgers are fried with butter, so if you’re going to have a meltdown, better leave now. And we only serve white buns. The soft kind. If you’re looking for sprouts and tofu, this ain’t gonna be a good fit.”

  “Good to know,” said Jane.

  “So, you stayin’?” she asked.

  “We wouldn’t think of leaving,” said Cordelia with a grin.

  “Then I’ll get your beers and be right back.”

  “Do you like my new purchases?” asked Cordelia, touching her necklace and then folding her hands this way and that under her chin.

  “More costume jewelry?”

  “Sparkly things make me happy. Emma took me to a couple antique stores yesterday. The stuff here is so cheap, I feel like I’ve landed in Oz.”

  “Was Oz known for cheap bling?”

  “And look at this.” She pushed her hair back, revealing a pair of appallingly gaudy earrings. “It is my hope that one day, I will be compared to a Fabergé egg. With the all of my luscious curves, I’m already the approximate shape.”

  Jane surveyed the room. She had to admit, the food smelled great. At the U-shaped bar, she noticed a familiar face. It shouldn’t have surprised her to find Darius Pollard nursing a beer at this local watering hole. His business wasn’t more than a couple blocks away. She wasn’t sure if he’d noticed her, not that it mattered. She dou
bted he wanted to talk to her again.

  When their Grain Belts arrived, Jane asked the server what kind of burger she recommended.

  “A cheeseburger,” she said. “You can’t improve on perfection.”

  “The pinnacle of burger-dom,” agreed Cordelia.

  Jane ordered the cheeseburger, pickles, shredded head lettuce, raw onion, and a side of fries.

  Cordelia dithered, finally settling on a plain burger, with sautéed mushrooms, barbecue sauce, avocado, a slice of tomato, bacon, extra pickles, and a fried egg. “Oh, and give me a side of mayo. And fries.”

  As the server wrote down the order, she oozed disdain. Jane had to agree: Cordelia’s burger was a travesty of nature—but then, to each her own.

  “So fill me in on what’s new,” said Cordelia, giving the beer a taste.

  Jane spent the next few minutes detailing her visit to the bank, her talk with Scott Romilly, her brief encounter with Monty Mickler, her feeling that Sam’s father probably wouldn’t talk to her, and her conversation with Darius Pollard. She saved the best for last: the information she’d overheard in the mayor’s office from the officer who was now in charge of the investigation.

  “That makes no sense,” said Cordelia. “Two bullets in each revolver, one spent, one intact, all blanks. You said they determined Sam’s skull was shattered by a bullet. So what went on? Why did those revolvers end up in his grave when they had nothing to do with his murder?”

  It was the same question Jane had been asking. “I’m also curious about a ring they found under the back flap of Sam’s billfold. The officer didn’t have any information on it.”

  “We should ask Emma,” said Cordelia, leaning back as the burgers appeared.

  “Ketchup and mustard are against the wall next to the napkins,” said the server. “Either of you want another beer?”

  “I do,” said Cordelia. “What else do you have? Any Surly?”

  “Yeah, we got Furious.”

  “Perfect,” said Cordelia, closing her eyes in ecstasy as she bit into a fry. “These are wondrous. Magical. Beyond fabulous.”

  “She has a gift for understatement,” said Jane. “Make it two beers.”

  “Two breathlessly, insanely awesome Surlys coming right up.”

  As the server smirked and walked away, Jane said, “Your burger is six inches tall.”

  “And…” said Cordelia, making a valiant attempt to pick it up. “Your point is?”

  “Maybe you should cut it in half.”

  As Cordelia sawed away and then tried to leverage half the pile toward her mouth, Jane continued, “I get the feeling that something really bad may have gone down at that keg party. The problem is, nobody seems to know what it was.”

  “Or they don’t want to talk about it.”

  In any investigation, there were always certain elements Jane felt might turn out to be vital, a door that would open onto the truth. Determining where to find the key to that door was the real battle.

  “So, who are our primary suspects?” asked Cordelia, wiping her mouth on a napkin.

  “Scott Romilly, for one.”

  “Emma’s having dinner with him again tonight.”

  “You mentioned that this morning. I was hoping you could talk her out of it.”

  “No such luck. I sent her a text a little while ago telling her to call if she needs us.”

  If Scott decided to do something crazy, it would hardly be enough. “What time was she meeting him?”

  “Seven, I think. Anyway, keep going. Who else?”

  “Well, Sam’s father. I haven’t figured out how to get him to talk to me.”

  “Try a gun and a silk stocking.”

  Jane glanced over at the bar. Darius Pollard looked away quickly. So he’d been watching her. “I keep going back to Dave Tamborsky. He walked right past Ida Beddemeyer’s grave the day before Sam disappeared. At the very least, he knew the grave was there and that it would be empty until later the following day.”

  “He had someone with him, right?”

  “Mickler, I’ll bet. Not that it proves anything. Anyway, as for Carli Gilbert, I haven’t had much of a chance to look into her death. I’m not even sure if it’s been officially ruled a homicide, but I’ll find out.” She wiped grease off her fingers.

  “Seems like someone’s headed our way,” said Cordelia, picking up her beer glass. When Jane looked up, Darius was approaching the table.

  “You got a minute?” he asked, placing his hands on the back of an empty chair.

  “Sure?” she said.

  He glanced at Cordelia, then back at her.

  “This is my friend, Cordelia Thorn. She helps me with my investigations. Anything you say to me can be said in front of her.”

  “Yeah? This is kind of … sensitive.”

  “Not a problem,” said Cordelia. “Consider me a black box.”

  He pulled out the chair and sat down. “Look,” he began somewhat nervously, “I need to tell you a few things. Maybe I should have done it this afternoon, but it didn’t feel right.”

  “I’m glad it does now,” said Jane. She didn’t have her recorder with her. Not that it mattered. The noise level in the restaurant would have precluded using it.

  He repositioned his baseball cap. “Okay, so before Sam died, you should know that he was in a battle with his dad. I don’t know the details, but I do know he no longer felt safe at home. I always wondered if his father was the one behind Sam’s disappearance. Anyway, the next thing is, there was definitely something bad going down with his brother, but, again, it was his father he was afraid of.”

  Wouldn’t it be ironic, thought Jane, if the one Sam really needed to be afraid of was Scott?

  “See, Sam had this ability to put things in boxes inside his mind and leave them there. He could act like nothing was wrong, everything was hearts and flowers, except it wasn’t. I don’t think he ever told anyone the entire story, what was really going on with him, certainly not me, but I know the guy was in pain. I wish I could say more, but I can’t.” He pulled his cap lower over his eyes. “Okay, next. The party at the farm. I don’t know if it had anything to do with Sam’s death, but you should know about it. So,” he said, twisting his hands together, “I got there that night around ten. I didn’t want to park where all the other cars were, so I pulled off into a field about thirty, forty yards from the house.

  “There were lights strung up all over the yard. People were dancing, laughing, drinking, stuffing their faces with chips. A bunch of girls were in the kitchen heating up frozen pizzas. If I recall right, the keg was inside. There were empty cups all over the place. Someone had turned on a floodlight attached to the garage and a bunch of guys were playing hoops. A few people had sparklers and were running around in the dark, waving them. Couples were making out, some had walked away from the lights and were getting it on in the trees. I was the only black person there. Even though I did get a personal invite from Corey, I didn’t figure I’d stay long.

  “So, like, I found a clean plastic cup and helped myself to a beer. I stood around listening to this one conversation for a while, taking it all in, and, after my third brew, I decided I’d had enough wild fun for the evening. I mean, it was a real downer for me. But that’s another story. When I got back to my car, I found Sam and Kurt Steiner sitting on the ground with their backs resting against the passenger-side door. We talked for a few minutes, and then Kurt said he should go find his date. But he didn’t leave. By then, my beer buzz was fading, and I was tired—I’d put in a long day at work, so I flopped on my back, just, you know, listening to them talk. Next thing I know, Sam was bending over me, telling me to get the hell up. Even though it was dark, I could see he had a young woman with him. I recognized her from school. She was crying, seemed pretty upset.

  “‘What the hell happened?’ I asked. He said she’d been attacked. He wanted me to drive her home. Her clothes were dirty, and the front of her shirt was ripped. It seemed clear what had gone down. The o
nly thing I didn’t know was who’d done it. On the way back to town, she said she didn’t want to talk. I figured I had to respect that. I dropped her off outside her house, waited to make sure she got in safely, and then went home. I assumed Sam would explain everything the next time I saw him, but he never did. I held my peace for a while, but I eventually said I hoped the girl—her name was Becca Hill—would go to the cops. The guy, whoever he was, needed to be arrested. Sam didn’t disagree, but he said she refused to talk to the police. It was her decision, he said. Nothing was gonna change her mind.”

  “You have no idea who the attacker was?”

  “None. All I know is that there were some weird vibes at the school that fall. Maybe it had something to do with Becca, maybe not. Maybe Sam’s death was tied to what happened, maybe it wasn’t. But I decided I owed it to Sam, after all these years of silence, to tell someone.”

  “What happened to Becca after the party?” asked Cordelia.

  “She pretty much acted like nothing had happened. Except she missed a lot of school that fall. And she looked sick, you know? She used to be sort of bubbly, but that changed. A few weeks after graduation, she left town.”

  “Do her parents still live here?” asked Jane.

  “No, they left, too.”

  “Maybe she’ll show up at the reunion,” offered Cordelia.

  “Wouldn’t that be something.” He appeared to think about it for a minute and then added, “Well, I said what I had to say. I better get home.”

  “Thank you,” said Jane.

  “Yeah.” He seemed like he wanted to add something more, but instead, he just said “Yeah,” again, then got up and walked away.

  24

  Jane went to bed that night still thinking about her conversation with Darius. She tossed and turned, unable to switch off her thoughts, until the sound of shouting caused her to leap out of bed. She threw on her robe and headed for the stairs. On her way down, she met Emma, who was coming up. “What’s going on?”

  “Cordelia’s talking to her girlfriend in California.”

  “Ah.”

  Emma offered a wan look. “They’re arguing. About the color red. Do they do things like that a lot?”