Becklaw's Murder Mystery Tour (Jo Anderson Series) (11 page)

Chapter Eighteen

I’m not sure how we finally got it all together, but we managed. By the time we finished comparing lists and ideas, it had boiled down to two possible suspects: Julian and Lily. We decided to concentrate on Julian Sweet.

Julian I could almost understand. He had done a complete disappearing act from the fairgrounds that night, even though Andy and Bert swore he had pulled in right after them. We’d worked out the timing, realizing that, yes indeed, Julian might have been in the same place as Josie at the same time. What their connection was, though, I still didn’t get. Why he’d want to kill her was a huge part of the mystery.

That was going to be Derek’s job to figure out. He was going to start in the library, of all places, saying that these were hotbeds of gossip in small towns like Manchester. Now that I could readily accept, coming from the Grand Central Station for Gossip myself. You could never keep a secret for long in Piney Woods, and by the time it got back to you, it was almost unrecognizable with all the embellishments.

The rest of us – LJ, Leslie, and I – were going to find out where Julian had been since the murder. I don’t know if anyone had thought to find this out, so step one was to get his home address. We were going to the library as well, for the local phone directory.

Making sure the station wagon was locked and keys safely deposited in her jeans pocket, Leslie led the way into the little library. It, of course, was built in the log cabin style that I was beginning to associate with Colorado. It had a large portico with a jutting roof over the double front doors that provided its patrons with some means of shelter from the snow or rain, depending on the season. I mentally compared this building to our own Piney Woods version, surprised to find they were similar, faux log walls excepted. Since the climate could be rather damp in Louisiana, especially during the spring and summer months, covered parking and doorways were coveted.

It was brightly lit inside, and I found myself looking around at the stacks of books with longing. If only I had time to browse, I thought. Reading for pleasure was one of my favorite pastimes, and this was a treasure trove. Alas, I was only here to track a potential killer’s movements. I followed Leslie and LJ to the information desk, giving the books one more glance over my shoulder.

A pleasant-looking woman sat on the other side of the desk, tortoiseshell readers perched on the end of a rather pert little nose. She fit the image of the typical librarian, I thought idly, noticing the tailored blouse and skirt, and the sensible flats, when she emerged from behind the desk to lead us over to the section that housed the telephone directories of Silverton County.

‘Now you just let me know if there is anything I can do to help you folks, OK? We’re down a librarian today, but I’m sure someone will be available if you need us.’ She smiled as she said this, then began to turn back to her desk.

‘Excuse me?’ I began, and she stopped in her tracks. the pleasant smile back on her face. ‘You said that you are missing one librarian. Would that be Lily, by any chance?’

She looked a bit startled, then said, ‘Why, yes. Yes, it is. Are you a friend of hers?’

I thought quickly. Maybe, if I said I knew her, we could get the scoop on Lily as well as Julian, killing the proverbial two birds with one library visit.

‘Yes. I’m in town for just a few more days and I had wanted to say hello to her. Is she out for the day? I could come back tomorrow.’ I smiled my most brilliant ‘you can trust me’ smile at her, hoping to cover my lies in friendliness.

It worked. She hesitated but an instant, then crooked her finger at me. ‘Follow me and I’ll check her schedule. It’ll take just a second.’

We paraded behind her, back to the information desk where she reached into a drawer and pulled out a book marked ‘Schedules’. She flipped over a few pages then ran her forefinger down until she found the name she was looking for. A frown appeared on her face, the tiny wrinkles pushing the readers even further down her nose.

‘Hmm. I see that Lily has not been here since,’ – she ran her finger across the page – ‘since last Friday. Very unusual for her. Let me check something first.’

She turned her back to us and picked up the receiver of a standard-issue office phone. Pressing buttons rapidly, she listened briefly then replaced the receiver.

‘I just called her extension just in case she was on vacation or something and had left a notification.’ The librarian looked troubled. ‘It says that she is out of the office indefinitely on personal leave. I’m sorry, folks. I didn’t know anything about that.’

I thought for minute, then took a risk. ‘Is there a chance that you can give me her address? Or her cellphone number? I realize it’s probably against your policy, but Lily is one of my closest friends and I told her that I’d be in town this week.’ The moment the words left my mouth I could have kicked myself. If she was that good a friend, shouldn’t I already have this information?

Thankfully, the librarian was upset enough not to notice my verbal gaff. She hesitated only a fraction then reached inside her desk for a small book. She laid it on the desk, then said,

‘I can’t give you any personal information, I’m afraid. Even if Lily is a friend. I’m sorry.’

With that she walked from behind the desk.

We three stared at each other, but only for a second. I reached down and grabbed up the book, flipping rapidly through the pages. I found Lily under the ‘T’s. Lily Thompson, I read. Well, if nothing else, we at least now had a last name. Quickly, I copied down the information, laying the book back on the desk. I smiled to myself. If this was detecting, it was a piece of cake.

Oh, how wrong I was. At that moment, though, I was confident. I could find Lily, figure out the reasons behind her odd behavior (and yes, breaking and entering definitely fell under ‘odd behavior’), and nail her if she was Josie’s killer.

Derek joined us near the front door. I could tell by the look of frustration on his face that he had not been as successful as we had. I was loath to brag, though, so I let Leslie do it. I had no interest in another verbal entanglement with anyone, and I was still flying high from my discovery.

‘Good for you,’ was Derek’s terse reply to Leslie’s cheery commentary on Lily and her possible whereabouts. Talk about your sour grapes! Derek’s face was going to atrophy into a pucker if he kept this up. I couldn’t help myself. I leaned over and gave his arm a little saccharine pat that said, ‘It’s OK, buddy.’

His scowl could have scared Frankenstein’s monster. Score!

We trooped back to the station wagon, Leslie and I chatting, and LJ following behind Leslie like an overgrown pet. Derek walked at the rear, scuffing the ground with the toe of his tennis shoes. Well, I’d have to find out just what had made Mr Sunshine such a gloomy little rain cloud. I fell into step beside him.

‘So what’s up, Derek?’ I asked as we walked back to the car. I aimed for a light tone with an underpinning of ‘innocent’.

He sent me a sideways glare but I’d already thrown up the laser shields. I beamed back at him. I maintained my silence, counting on the adage that a vacuum must be filled by necessity. He filled it, all right.

I will not write the exact wording he used, this being a family-friendly tale. However, I will paraphrase:

Derek had approached a young library worker who was returning books to the shelves. She was cute and blonde, and apparently well aware of her attributes. Derek’s attempts at suave conversation had toppled right over, landing in a heap of mangled words and embarrassment. He hadn’t stayed around for her response. But he had heard her giggling as he stomped out of the stacks. He hadn’t even gotten to first base with his information-gathering expedition.

In spite of the ridiculousness of it all, I actually felt sorry for the guy. Having as many brothers as I do, I know what injured masculine pride does to the fragile male ego.

‘Never mind,’ I said briskly. ‘We’ve got something to follow up on Lily, so that should keep us busy today. By the way, her last name is Thompson.’

Derek stopped walking and looked at me with an odd expression in his eyes. ‘Thompson? Are you sure?’

I stared back at him. ‘Of course I’m sure! I got her name from the librarian’s address book. Why?’

‘Because that’s what I heard someone calling Skinny Joe. Thompson, I mean. As in “Skinny Joe Thompson”.’

My mouth made an ‘O’ of surprise.

 ‘Are you sure? Then that would make Lily Andy’s cousin or something, since Skinny Joe’s his uncle.’

This was becoming a hodgepodge of confusion. Were these people all related or something? And how come we hadn’t known that to begin with? It wasn’t like it was a state secret.

We caught up to Leslie and LJ, who had been standing next to Miss Bea’s pride and joy, watching us with curiosity.

Derek spoke first, filling them in on the possible relationship between Lily, Andy, and Skinny Joe. Leslie looked interested, and LJ looked puzzled. I could almost hear his brain whirring as it struggled to make the connections.

‘So it’s a possibility that Lily had something to do with this mess, especially since she’s done a runner,’ Derek concluded.

I had to concur. Nothing else made sense.

‘So what’s our next move?’ Leslie asked, one arm tucked through LJ’s.

‘Well, I think we need to find her house – we’ve got the address now – and see if she’s there. If she’s not, then I think that we’ll have to talk to Andy. Or Skinny Joe,’ replied Derek.

I made a face. Neither aspect thrilled me, especially since I clearly recalled the looks on their faces at the restaurant. They didn’t look too happy, to say the least. Needs must when the Devil drives, as my mother would say, whatever
that
little gem meant. But I remembered she would say it whenever she had anything that she didn’t want to do, so it must be apropos for this occasion.

‘All righty then,’ I said. ‘Let’s hit the road. It can’t be that hard to find.’

Actually, that was a true statement, not a pipe dream. Manchester was the most simply laid out town I had ever seen. Apparently the employee with the dullest imagination had been called upon to design the naming system, and it was most likely a man who had better things to do with his time, like skip out early for bowling. All streets running north to south were numbers, and all streets running east to west were letters.

The main street of the town which ran east to west was called Main. This was crossed by Center, running north to south, forming the exact middle of the town. All roads in the upper right quadrant of the plan were ‘Avenues’, as in 1st Avenue and C Avenue. The streets in the lower right quadrant were ‘Streets’. The lower left quadrant roads were ‘Places’ and the remaining quadrant had ‘Roads’. So it stood to reason that if the address listed for Lily Thompson was 255 East ‘A’ Place, she must live south-west of Main and Center.

With me giving directions and Leslie doing a fine job behind the wheel, we found Lily’s tiny bungalow without a hitch.

The driveway was gravel-filled and rough, looking as though it had not been tended to for a while. A few scruffy-looking forsythia bushes clung to the sides of a tiny railed-in front porch, and the ash tree in the middle of the front lawn looked dehydrated. Not the sort of place I’d have pictured someone like Lily living in, especially since she came across as neat and organized. Maybe she just didn’t have a green thumb, I reasoned. Lord knows I don’t. Give me a potted plant and I can kill it in four days flat – sooner, if it has flowers.

Leslie had pulled into the driveway; bumping across ruts in the dirt. We sat in the car, waiting for one of us to volunteer to get out and knock on the door. Actually, the three of them looked at me, waiting for me to offer to do it, so with a deep sigh of martyrdom, I did so, slamming the car door for emphasis. The things I do to keep folks happy!

I marched myself straight to the front door, knocking on it and simultaneously ringing the bell. Between each round I listened closely for any sound from inside. After three attempts, I looked back toward the car filled with expectant faces and shrugged exaggeratedly. Derek stuck his head out of the passenger window and suggested I peek through a window or two.

In turn, I suggested that he – well, it doesn’t really matter what I suggested, dear reader. Believe me when I say that it was enough to get him out of the car, bad attitude firmly back in place.

Together we walked around the house’s perimeter, alternately peering through dust-coated windows and making snippy comments to one another. It was enough to stay my homesickness, if I had any; I felt like I was fighting with one of my brothers.

It must have been the next-to-last window when I began to feel a familiar flutter of anxiety in my gut. Something did not feel right. I motioned Derek to go ahead of me, and I hung back, waiting to see what he found, if anything. I crossed my fingers for the latter.

I really must learn the art of crossing fingers. It didn’t work, in the biggest way.

Chapter Nineteen

The look on Derek’s face was eloquent, no need for words. Which was a good thing, since he wasn’t up to much speaking right now.

He had peeked through that last window, cupping his hands around his eyes in an effort to combat glare and dust. He must have been able to see just fine, because he seemed to spring back from the window as if on an invisible pulley. I reached out a hand to steady him, and I could tell that this was not going to be good. At all.

Together we retraced our path back to the station wagon where Leslie and LJ sat cuddled together like a mama bear and her rather overgrown, overstuffed cub. The silence in our approach was more an alert than if we had been screeching, because Leslie sat straight up and stepped out of the car door.

‘What?’ Her eyes swept back and forth from me to Derek, trying to read our faces. ‘What did you see?’

Derek swallowed hard. I’ll give him this: he can be as vulnerable as the next person. A feeling of protection fluttered around in my chest; he reminded me so much of a little boy who had just seen something that would scar him for life.

I slipped an arm though his, then spoke up. ‘I’m not too sure what Derek saw, but let’s give him a minute to get his thoughts together. Do we still have those water bottles in the back of the wagon?’ In times of dire emergency, my mother had always plied us with food or drink and I had learned from her. A water bottle was better than nothing at this point.

Leslie walked around to the back of the car, pulling up on the handle that opened the hatchback. She leaned in and rummaged about, returning to us in triumph: she had found two water bottles, a carton of juice, and a small bag of chocolate-covered raisins. I gave Derek the juice and the raisins. Sugar was a sure-fire cure for whatever ailed you.

I twisted open the cap of one of the water bottles, taking a long draw on the tepid water. Derek had tossed a handful of the raisins into his mouth and was in the process of washing them down with the juice. I judged that he was fit to speak, going by his returning color.

‘OK, Derek. Nice and slow – what did you see back there?’ I spoke in as kindly a tone as I could, the little boy image still clear in my mind.

He swallowed the juice and raisin combo, sputtering a bit, but he didn’t seem as upset as before. ‘I’m pretty sure it’s Lily,’ he said simply.

I groaned. This was exactly what I had been feeling, had been dreading. Not only did this cut the suspect list down even further, it also turned our killer into more of a menace.

Leslie took over, saying briskly, ‘OK. First things first. I’ll call the Manchester Police Department. Derek, you have a seat in the car with LJ, keep each other company. Jo, you come with me to the backyard. We need to see this for ourselves.’ She turned and began walking determinedly toward the back of the tiny house, me on her heels and protesting.

‘Look here, Leslie. I’ve seen one dead body. I really don’t need to see another.’

‘We don’t even know if she’s dead,’ Leslie replied in a tone that one might employ with a person whose marbles might not be all there. ‘Let’s take a look. She might just be ill, or hurt. That way we’ll have good info for the PD, OK?’

That did make sense, I had to admit. Still, I silently volunteered her to be the one to determine Lily’s current state.

We approached that last window, and I hung back just enough to let Leslie step ahead of me. She did much as Derek had, cupping her hands against the dirty pane in order to shield her eyes from the morning glare. There the similarities stopped, though. Leslie continued to stare inside, her mouth open in a parody of surprise. Stepping back from the window as carefully as if walking on glass, Leslie looked at me.

‘She’s in there, all right. And I think it’s safe to report that Lily Thompson is deceased.’

From her tone, I thought it better not to ask for details. Those could wait for the police report.

Leslie made the requisite call to the Manchester Police Department, and they arrived in due course. I was glad to see our Officer Kingsley among those milling around the tiny yard, stringing up the yellow crime tape and taking pictures. I guess it always amazes me just how many folks it takes to investigate a crime. I’d always thought it was just like you saw in the movies, all the bit-parters; the kind that Miss Bea loved to hire.

Anyhow, I debated whether or not to hang about to see Lily’s body being carried out and hauled off. I wanted to see her for myself. I’m not even sure why, but I did. Leslie and Derek had already given their statements to the officer and I had been told to wait for someone to talk to me.

Being the enterprising young woman that I am, I decided to speed things up a bit; to find an investigator to talk to and discover the particulars of the murder. I strolled around the back of the house, ducking under the yellow barrier, and caught a glimpse of Officer Kingsley standing just outside the back door. I raised my hand in a slight wave, hoping to catch her eye without making a big fuss.

I was in luck. Officer Kingsley saw me and snapped closed the cellphone she had been talking on, waving at me to join her. I did, walking across the backyard with its worn-out grass and empty flowerpots. The back door stood ajar, the room bustling with activity. I craned my neck to see around Officer K, but she quickly put an arm across the doorway.

‘You don’t need to see, Jo,’ she admonished me. ‘It’s not a pretty sight.’

 I looked up at her, eyebrows raised in question. ‘Is it really that bad?’

Officer Kingsley nodded her head somberly. ‘It is. Take my word for it, OK?’

I said that I would, but I made a note to talk to Leslie and Derek. It was share and share alike, as far as I was concerned.

Officer K took down a few statements from me. I told her how we got the address, told her that we decided to check it out ourselves, and that Leslie had driven us over.

‘That’s about it,’ I added. ‘I got out and pounded on the door a couple of times, then Derek and I started looking through windows. When he came to the last one, Derek spotted Lily. Then Leslie peeped in after and confirmed it. We called you. That’s it.’

Officer Kingsley closed her notebook, reminding me not to talk about anything to do with the crime, and to give her a call if anything else came to mind. I agreed then walked back to the station wagon.

Leslie and LJ were in the back seat, his massive arm curled around her shoulders. She did not look good, I thought worriedly, wondering just how bad Lily had looked. Derek, seeming somewhat on his way to recovery, had slipped in to the front passenger seat. I rolled my eyes. That meant only one thing;
I
had to drive.

Well, I’ve never been one to shirk my duty, even if it included piloting a yacht-sized station wagon, replete with faux wood paneling and three passengers in various stages of quiet. I took the keys from Leslie, inserted them into the ignition, and turned. The engine roared into life and we were off, the ancient steering wheel held tightly in my grasp.

I debated starting a conversation with Derek, but a sideways glance told me he was still in no frame of mind for talk of any sort, so I refrained. I reached for the radio’s controls, and Miss Bea’s choice in music came blasting through the speakers. It had amused me when I found out her penchant for classic rock, but I figured that now was not the time to be critical. Any noise was better than no noise.

Unless it was Queen’s “Death on Two Legs”. We did
not
need any reminder of death and mayhem, so I quickly clicked the radio off.

OK, I thought grimly. This was too much. Sure, Derek and Leslie might have seen something terrible through that window, but didn’t they have the responsibility to share? I decided to take the bull by the horns and cleared my throat.

‘Derek. Leslie. I don’t want to upset you, but I really, truly want to know what you saw in that house.’ I caught Leslie’s eye in the rearview mirror, and almost took my words back.

Almost. I develop an insatiable curiosity when anyone doesn’t want to share with me. I soldiered on.

‘Derek. You first. Where was Lily at when you saw her?’ I figured a direct question would prod him into speech.

He cut his eyes at me, then turned back to look out of the window. ‘Why do you want to know so badly?’ He turned back to look at me. My eyes were fixed on the curving road ahead of us, but I could feel his stare.

‘I just do, that’s why,’ I retorted. ‘Besides, aren’t we part of a team here? You know what they say: “There’s no ‘I’ in team”.’ That should get the point across, I thought smugly, as I navigated the road.

‘Maybe not, but there
is
a “me” and this “me” doesn’t feel much like talking, OK?’

Humph, I thought. Well, I’d worm it out of him one way or another. Tucking that into the back of my mind, I guided the lumbering station wagon through the opened gates of the KOA.

I dropped the boys off at their trailer then drove to ours. A glance in the rearview mirror showed LJ leading Derek up to the door with one beefy hand on Derek’s slight shoulder. That made me feel a bit better. LJ and I would probably be playing nursemaid this evening, but that was OK. Leslie and Derek would do as much for us.

Miss Bea and Miss Lucinda should be awake by now, I thought. I wanted to get some food into Leslie, maybe get her to cough it up – what she had seen, I mean, not the food. The front door was locked but I had a key. Opening the door, I let us in, calling out, ‘Miss Lucinda? Miss Bea? We’re back!’

A faint snoring came down the hallway, and I grinned. The old dears were sawing logs. Well, a few more minutes in bed probably wouldn’t hurt. I’d take care of Leslie then wake them up. I led her into the kitchen, not even thinking about Lily at the moment.

Leslie was, though. She stopped cold in the doorway, not wanting to walk in. I had already opened the refrigerator and taken out the carton of milk and a piece of leftover cheesecake, intending to feed her.

She didn’t answer. Her eyes, fixed on the small kitchen table, were filled with tears.

‘Leslie? What’s wrong?’ I hurriedly set the milk and dessert down on the counter, putting an arm around her shoulders.

‘It was so awful,’ she sobbed. ‘You can’t even begin to imagine.’ I let her cry for a few minutes.

‘Do you want to talk about it?’ I asked gently. Yes, you do, I silently encouraged her. This was my chance to find out just what had shaken Derek and her so much.

She stayed silent, focused on some point in time that only she could see. I was beginning to think she had gone catatonic on me, then she spoke.

‘She must have made someone really, really angry,’ Leslie said softly, still fixed on some distant point.

I waited for more, but that was it. Sometimes you just have to use a cattle prod, I thought, and this was one of those times.

‘Leslie? Did they do something else to her, besides kill her?’ Oh, boy. What could be worse than being killed? Jo, you are a brilliant conversationalist at times, I scolded myself.

‘Yes.’ Her answer surprised me. I suppose I expected her to give me a dirty look, not a response.

‘What do you mean? Exactly?’ I prompted her.

She looked me full in the face then, her eyes widening at the horror of what she had seen.
What
Leslie had seen?

‘Jo, they – they cut out her tongue!’ With that, she slumped back, tears filling her eyes.

I stared at her, not sure if what I thought I’d heard and what she had said where a match. ‘Her tongue, as in what’s in your mouth?
That
tongue?’

In spite of the idiocy of the question, Leslie nodded. Her face and neck were wet with crying, and I reached out to hug her close. No wonder the poor girl had gone semicomatose.

‘That wasn’t all, either,’ she continued, her voice muffled against my shoulder. I stiffened. What else had they done to that poor girl?

‘She was sitting at her table just like she was eating dinner, only …’ Leslie got quieter. ‘It wasn’t food that was on her plate.’

I closed my eyes, trying not to picture what she had told me. Too late; the image was firmly fixed in my mind. I could see Lily, her pretty face demoralized with the damage to her mouth, the plate of – well, I wasn’t going there. Not now.

Not sure of what to say next, I gave her a final squeeze and backed away from her. ‘Look, Leslie. I want you to sit down. I’ll make you some hot tea and then I’m going to wake Miss Bea and Miss Lucinda. I think they should be in on this as well.’