by Kathi Daley
“I’d love to come. Will Michael and Maggie be there?”
“I’m not sure. I know Mom planned to call Maggie and invite them, but I haven’t heard back as of yet. Michael and Maggie have come for all the holidays since moving, so I think it’s fair to assume they’ll be here on Sunday as well.”
“It’ll be good to see them. I’ve barely even chatted with Maggie since Christmas.” She bent over and set the cat on the floor. “Can I get you some coffee?”
“No, thanks. I’ve had more than enough today.”
“You said you had something to ask me.”
I nodded. “In the course of looking into who might have broken into the newspaper, we came across an unsolved murder from nineteen ninety-seven. It seems a man named John Reynolds was shot in the head while he slept.”
“I do remember that. Let’s have a seat at the quilting table, and we can chat.” She looked out the front window. “With all the rain, it’s been totally dead today, so I’ll just lock the door and flip the sign around to let folks know I’m taking a break.”
“Are you sure? If you don’t want to close, we can talk in the front.”
“It’s fine,” she said. “I haven’t had a customer all day, so I’ve been cleaning, and to be honest, I could use a break. In fact, if you don’t mind, I think I’ll have my lunch while we chat. I can share my sandwich if you’re hungry.”
“Thanks, but Mystique and I have had our lunch. You go ahead and eat, and I’ll ask my questions while you do.”
I explained about the boxes of notes containing journals and other documents that Orson had left behind. I suspected that he had saved every note from every news piece he’d ever worked on. It was a lot to go through, but I also shared that Mystique seemed to have a definite opinion as to what I should be paying attention to. I showed her the piece of paper with her name on it.
“Did Orson interview you after John Reynolds died?” I asked.
“Yes. He did actually. Margaret was one of our regulars. The woman loved to sew almost as much as I do. She spent a lot of time hanging out here, and I guess you could say we became friends. Good friends.”
“What sort of things did Orson ask you about?”
“He was mainly interested in the sort of relationship Margaret had with her husband.”
“Sort of relationship?” I asked.
“He wanted to know if the two shared a close and intimate bond, or if there was trouble in their marriage. I told him that to the best of my knowledge, the pair had shared a happy union until about a year and a half before John’s death.”
“What happened a year and a half before John’s death?” I asked.
“He was in an auto accident and almost died. In fact, he was in a coma for almost a week before he began to recover. According to Margaret, John was different after that.”
“Different how?”
“He was harder and less affectionate. He was angry most of the time and had, on occasion, even hit both her and their son hard enough to leave a bruise. Margaret loved her husband, and she attributed the personality change to the accident. She clung to the hope that the old John would eventually return, but he never did. In fact, by the time of his death, Margaret had all but decided to leave him. Not only had the abuse been getting worse, but she was sure he was having an affair.”
“Do you think Orson suspected that Margaret killed John?” I asked.
She nodded. “I suspect that was his theory, but I told him that Margaret had been making plans to take her son and move away so, therefore, had no reason to kill him. I’m not sure whether I was able to convince Orson of this fact, but I just couldn’t see Margaret killing the man. Despite everything he’d done to her since the accident, she still loved him and mourned the loss of the man he’d once been.”
“Was the fact that John had been abusing his wife and son a well-known fact back then?”
“No. Margaret covered it up. She didn’t want him to go to prison. She wanted him to get help, which he kept promising to do, but as far as I know, never did.”
“And the affair part? Had that been going on the entire year and a half since the accident?”
“Margaret wasn’t sure. She did say that a few months after he was released from the hospital, he began disappearing for short periods. Usually on the weekends, which made her believe he had a woman stashed on the side. She asked him about another woman on several occasions, and he always denied it, but a woman can tell those things about the man she’s sleeping with. Still, Margaret had no proof, and there were stretches where John would be home every night, so she really wasn’t sure what was going on. Then about a month before John died, one of Margaret’s friends saw John with another woman. They were in a bar on Orcas Island. Knowing that Margret had suspected John of being unfaithful, the friend called Margaret and told her what she’d seen. John didn’t come home that night, nor did he come home the following night. When he finally did show up late on Sunday, she confronted him. He slapped her and told her that what he did with his free time was none of her business. I think that was when Margaret began to think about taking her son and leaving. She felt she needed her own proof of John’s infidelity, so she hired a private detective to follow John. The PI followed John for a couple of weeks without seeing John with this woman, and Margaret was about to give up when the detective called and told her he had a photo of John with a woman on Lopez Island. The woman in the photo was blond, and the woman the friend saw was a redhead. It was then that Margaret realized he didn’t just have one woman on the side, but many. By the time the intruder broke in and shot John, Margaret had already made arrangements to leave the island forever. She hadn’t even planned to tell John what she was doing. She told me she planned to pick Alton up from school and leave from there.”
“And then he died.”
She nodded. “And then he died. Margaret took Alton and left anyway, but she waited to bury the man, board up the house, and take care of all the little details one has to when your husband unexpectedly passes away.”
I paused to take a minute to consider the situation. “Other than feeling that Margaret had a motive to kill her husband due to his abuse and unfaithfulness, did Orson seem to have any other reason for his suspicions?”
“Not that he said. And like I said, in my mind, Margaret already had a plan in place to leave the man, so why would she kill him?”
“Money?”
“John hadn’t worked since the accident. He didn’t have any money. Margaret had to borrow money from her sister to hire the PI. I know Orson had his suspicions relating to Margaret’s involvement in her husband’s death, but I really think he was wrong about this one.” She paused briefly and then continued. “You know, if you want to talk to someone who might have known what was really going on, you should speak to a woman named Elliemae Crafton. She was Margaret’s best friend. If Margaret was going to share her deepest thoughts with anyone, it would have been with Elliemae.”
“Does she still live on the island?”
“She lives in Harthaven. I can call her if you’d like to see if she would be willing to chat with you about John and Margaret.”
“That would be great. I’m not sure why this particular unsolved case has grabbed my attention, but I have to say that the more research I do, the more I’m pulled into the story.”
Chapter 14
Marley called Elliemae, who was home and willing to chat with me. After Marley gave me directions to her home, I said my goodbyes, and Mystique and I headed north. By this point, the rain had stopped altogether, but the dark clouds on the horizon were heading in this direction, and I was certain that the sky would eventually open up once again and release the moisture within, so I figured I’d best make the interview a short one. I considered dropping Mystique at home, but given the approaching storm, I elected to save time by bringing her with me and leaving her in the car while I spoke to Elliemae.
Elliemae lived in a nice home in the older part of Harthaven, not
all that far from the home where I’d grown up. Since Marley had called and let her know I would be arriving within the half-hour, she was waiting for me when I pulled up.
“Thank you so much for taking a few minutes to speak to me about Margaret Reynolds,” I said.
“I’m not sure I’ll have much to add that Marley hasn’t already told you, but I’m happy to help if I can. Please come in. I have lemonade in the living room.”
After she had poured a glass of the tart beverage for me, she asked what was on my mind. I shared my reason for having an interest in the case, as well as everything Marley had already shared with me. I then asked if she had anything to add.
“Not really,” she replied. “It is true that John changed after the accident. It’s almost like he was a different person when he woke from the coma. It’s hard to explain if you hadn’t known the man before and after, but if someone told me he’d been possessed while he was unconscious, I would have totally believed them.”
“So John and Margaret were happy before the accident?”
“Very happy.” She got up and crossed the room. She opened a drawer and took out a photo. “This is a photo of John and Margaret; it was taken just a few months before the accident. They were at a church picnic. The boy standing next to them is their son, Alton.”
I looked at the photo of the handsome dark-haired man with his petite wife and equally handsome son and decided they had indeed looked happy.
“I felt so bad for Margaret after John woke up a different man than the one who’d been knocked unconscious. She really loved that man, and she tried so hard to adjust to her new circumstances and make it work, but after more than a year of putting up with his anger, aggression, and infidelity, she decided she’d had enough and made arrangements to leave the island with her son.”
“And then he was shot and killed,” I said.
She nodded. “Yes. Just a few days before she planned to leave. I really wish she’d gotten out of town before the madman who broke into her home decided to take out his anger in the most violent of ways. The poor thing had already gone through so much, and then to have this man she barely knew anymore but still loved, murdered while they slept. Did you know that John’s blood and brain matter ended up all over poor Margaret? I really can’t imagine anything worse.”
“That does sound bad,” I agreed. I looked down at the photo of the happy family again. “Do you know if Margaret had any idea who shot her husband?”
Elliemae shook her head. “She wasn’t sure. Margaret protected John, so it wasn’t widely known, but John had made a lot of enemies during the year and a half since his accident. He’d been in bar fights, and she’d recently been given proof that he’d been sleeping around with multiple women. Margaret suspected that it might have been the husband or boyfriend of one of these women who shot John. He was a handsome man, and he tended to gravitate toward young and attractive women.”
“Did she know who any of these women were?” I asked.
“Initially, Margaret didn’t have any names, and she hadn’t even known for sure that John was being unfaithful, but then a friend of hers saw him with another woman and called and told her about it. After that, she borrowed money from her sister and hired a private detective. He was able to offer photo proof of John’s infidelity and the name of at least one of the women.”
“So, she actually had a photo of one of the women?” I asked.
“Yes. She had a photo.”
“Was she local? Did Margaret recognize her?”
“No. Margaret said she’d never seen the woman before. The private detective did some additional research and found out the woman actually lived in Bellingham. She was just twenty-two. I think the fact that John was cheating with a woman so much younger than she angered Margaret most of all.”
“Do you know this woman’s name?”
She paused, tapping her chin as she thought about it. “Susan? No, not Susan. Shawna. I don’t remember her last name, but I do remember that she worked for an attorney as some sort of clerk. Margaret actually went to Bellingham to confront her and warn her to leave her husband alone.”
“And did she agree to leave him alone?”
She frowned. “You know, Margaret never did share how her interview went. I’m not even sure the woman agreed to speak to her.”
I handed the photo of Margaret and her family back to Elliemae. “I know you said that Margaret wasn’t sure who shot her husband, but did you have a theory at the time?”
“I actually thought it might have been one of the people John was suing.”
“Suing?” I asked.
“John was suing both the bartender and the owner of the bar who’d served him on the night of the accident. I guess he’d had too much to drink, which had caused him to swerve off the road in the first place, but instead of taking responsibility for his own drinking, he tried to blame everyone else.”
“Did he or Margaret ever get a settlement?”
“No. The owner of the bar was able to find witnesses to testify that John had a bottle of whiskey in his car and most likely continued to drink after he left the bar. He was also able to find men and women who’d been in the bar that evening and were willing to testify that John was not too drunk to drive when he left the premises, so he must have continued to drink after he left. The lawsuit was dropped shortly before John was shot, but according to others who knew John, he wasn’t giving up and had started hassling the family of the man who owned the bar. I don’t know this for a fact, but it does sound like something he would do.”
“You said that John was a good husband, a good father, and a good man prior to the accident. Do you have any idea why he was drinking so heavily on the night of the accident?”
Her brow wrinkled. “No. I’ve actually never considered that question before. It doesn’t seem like the sort of thing pre-accident John would have done. I suppose John and Margaret might have had an argument or perhaps he was having problems at work. I really don’t know what might have been going through his mind at the time.”
“And when exactly was this accident?”
“Just before Thanksgiving. I guess it must have been November of nineteen ninety-five.”
Elliemae and I chatted for a few more minutes before it started to rain. I decided I should get home before the worst of it hit, so I thanked her, then gave her my cell number, and asked her to call me if she thought of anything else. By the time I made it back to my car, the sky had really opened up. I had the feeling it was going to be a slow and precarious drive home. I slipped my key into the ignition, started the engine, and slowly pulled away from the curb. The windshield wipers were going full speed, but I could barely see where I was going. I decided to take it slow and steady, so I wouldn’t run off the road. I was about halfway back to the peninsula where Cody and I lived when I decided that even slow-moving was dangerous, so I pulled over to wait it out. While I was waiting, I decided to call Finn. Something about the name Shawna rang a bell with me.
“Hey, Finn, it’s Cait. Do you have a minute to look something up for me?”
“Yeah. I have a minute. What do you need?”
“If you have the list of women who went missing in the nineties on hand, can you look and see if one of the missing women was named Shawna.”
“Yeah. Hang on.”
He set the phone down, but I could hear him moving around in the background. I watched the sheets of water run down my windshield. I couldn’t even see the landscape around me. I pretty much doubted that anyone would be driving in this, but I did find myself wondering if I’d pulled far enough off the road to avoid a collision should someone come barreling along.
“Shawna Jorgenson was the last woman to go missing in May of nineteen ninety-seven. Or at least she was the last woman on the list provided by Orson.”
“Did she live in Bellingham?”
“She did.”
“I think there might be something going on we haven’t quite put together yet. I’m
sitting in my car on the side of the road, waiting for the rain to let up enough so I can see where I’m going. Once it does, I’ll head in your direction. I think the two cases Mystique has me researching might be linked in some way.”
“Linked? Linked how?”
“I’ll tell you everything when I get there. Are you in your office?”
“I am.”
“Okay. Wait for me. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
Thankfully, the rain began to slow after I had been sitting on the side of the road for about fifteen minutes. Once I felt I could see well enough to stay on the road, I started my engine and slowly pulled onto the roadway. I drove cautiously, so it took me twice as long to cover the distance between Harthaven and Finn’s office in Pelican Bay than it normally did. I’d begun to wonder if Cody was out driving in this mess, which caused me to worry, so I was happy to see his truck parked in front of the newspaper when I pulled up. I debated whether or not to take a minute to go in and let Cody know I’d be next door. I figured he’d see my car and wonder where I was. I’d just picked up the cat and stepped onto the sidewalk when my phone dinged, alerting me that I had a text. It was Cody letting me know he was waiting for me in Finn’s office.
Once I greeted the men, I sat down next to Cody and across from Finn, and shared everything that I’d learned from Marley and Elliemae with them. Once I had completed my retelling, I paused and asked the question that had been on my mind since my conversation with Margaret’s best friend. “So the question in my mind is whether it’s a clue or a coincidence that the name of the woman the private investigator photographed with John Reynolds shortly before he was shot and killed was also the name of the last victim on Orson’s list.”
“It does seem like quite a coincidence, given the fact that both women were from Bellingham,” Cody said. “But what does that mean? Are you saying that John Reynolds was the person who was chatting up these women at various bars along Interstate 5 and then bringing them to the islands to kill them?”
