Secret Keepers and Skinny Shadows: Lee and Miranda (19 page)

                             
CHAPTER 36

                                     Present Day

W
hen people are forced by fate to expose their secrets and lies, how do they retrofit them into today’s time continuum? How do they walk out of the past, present their side of the story making it believable? Time doesn’t stop for anyone. How would someone go back into the past search for the truth about a secret many men and women willingly or unwillingly took to their graves? The problems start when the secret begins to leak like a broken faucet drip by drip. The lies slowly ooze out of the control of the people who were alive some fifty years later and had been entrusted with the secret. They could no longer keep it bottled up inside. It devoured first their hearts, then their minds, forcing their souls to seek relief.

All it took was one seeker, Lee Perkins, to doggedly pursue the truth, scratching and picking the encrustations from the memories of the people who tried to forget and protect. When the scabs were at last jerked off, reality began to bubble up to the top. Then, like a volcano, the veracity of it all exploded, covering each of them with the pus and blood of their secrets and lies. Exposing their secrets at last, they’ve become unable to conceal the truth of their actions any longer.

“We should take a break,” Miranda said, “and have dinner. It’s getting late and I don’t like to eat after six. I don’t sleep well if I eat much later.”

“That’s okay with me. I like to eat anytime.”

Her phone chirped.

“Hello, this is Miranda.” She hit the speaker-phone.

“Meet me at the Coffee Grind in Bridgetown tonight at eight,” a voice said. “Bring the letters and leave the tall guy at home. I’ll make you an offer for the letters that you won’t be able to refuse.” The man hung up.

Lee looked at Miranda.

“You’re not going alone, Kid. Don’t even consider it. It’s four o’clock now. We should eat, then scout out the coffee house before tonight.”

“I know the Coffee Grind,” Miranda said. “We were just there yesterday morning.”

“I know, but I don’t remember how the inside was laid out. I need to find a place to hide so I can watch you while waiting for this guy. If I remember right, it was in a bad part of town.”

“I’ve always felt safe going there. I know it looks pretty bad from the outside, but you have to admit how nice it was inside.”

“Let’s get going, we need all the time we can get. This could be dangerous for you tonight. I don’t like it.”

“Don’t worry. I’m good at taking care of myself. Don’t forget, I was a special ops agent before going into the research end.”

“Oh, I do remember, but that was a long time ago.”

“What are you saying, I’m too old for this stuff now?”

“Well, you’re a woman, I feel the need to protect you. Your skills might have gotten rusty.”

“Oh, Lee, you always had a way with words. No one ever accused you of having a silver tongue, did they?”

He winked at Miranda as they moved to the garage.

             
CHAPTER 37

                                 Present Day

L
ee parked the car in the only vacant space in front of the dingy brick building. The Coffee Grind was well past its prime, there had to be a good reason the owners let the outside look so run-down. He wondered what they were hiding, perhaps certain people who didn’t want to be seen from the street.

Lee held the door open for Miranda. The aroma of strong coffee and lattes filled the air. Soft music from the live band mingled with people talking and laughing. Lee scanned the numerous tables and booths spaced around the room. There was a large section separated from the main floor by a latticework wall, the tables were empty and the lights were off.

“This place has all age groups,” Lee said.

“Yes, look at the tall husky guy standing beside the coffee barista. They appear to be in deep conversation with a couple of Bridgetown’s finest perched on the stools at the counter,” Miranda said.

“Did you see them turn and look at us when we opened the door?” Lee said.

“I wouldn’t have noticed if they hadn’t stared at us all the way to the table.”

“Let’s sit over here.” Lee said holding the chair at a table in the middle of the coffee shop. “I want to make sure you’re in the safest place in the room.”

“Good thinking, Lee.”

“He’s my plan. Tonight, I’ll come in early, get a coffee, and find a seat behind the latticework where I can see you, but won’t be seen, then you come in about 7:45, sit at this table with your back to me so I can watch whoever you’re going to meet.”

“But, what if this table is taken?”

“For heaven’s sake let me worry about that.” He glanced at his watch.

“It’s almost six o’clock, so we have an hour and a half to get ready. Let’s head back to your house, and since we’re in the area I would like to stop where the murder took place, or should I say Bert’s body was found. I already programed it into my GPS.”

“Sure, Lee, it’s just around the block. That place has changed a lot in fifty years, all the old shacks that stood on Chestnut Avenue have been replaced by a parking lot. It’s still daylight so you’ll get a good sense of the area.”

Lee turned right off Chestnut Avenue then a quick left onto a blacktop street. He pulled the car into a parking space facing a row of ramshackle narrow houses behind a chain-link fence.

“This is it?” Lee said.

“There in front of you is the alley behind 30 Chestnut Avenue.”

“I thought the newspaper said there was a wooden fence?”

“Yes, it did, and there was one there then, it has since been replaced with that chain-link fence in front of you.”

“So, we’re looking at the exact spot were Bert’s body was found.”

“Yes, right there. Lee try to picture in your mind a mud-rutted alley, an old wooden fence and this parking lot a mirror image of the ramshackle houses you’re looking at on the other side of that chain link barrier.”

Lee studied the scene for a few minutes from the car. “I need to get out of the car,” he said.

“I’ll stay here.” She watched him as he walked up and down the now blacktop-street, and what used to be a dark, mud rutted, alley. He came back to the car.

“Amazing, isn’t it Kid the contrast, it’s as if on the other side of the fence time has forgotten them and they’re still living in the 1960s, while just the opposite is true here on Chestnut Avenue; where they’ve moved into today’s world.”

“Yes, it is. We should get going, Lee. We have plans to make before our meeting tonight.”

CHAPTER 38

Present Day

T
hey walked into the computer room, Miranda noticed she had another e-mail waiting for her.

“Look at this, Lee. It’s from a reporter at the
Bridgetown Mirror
.” She read it out loud.

Hello, I saw your advertisement in today’s newspaper and it sparked my interest. My name is Glen Roberts. I’ve been a reporter at the Mirror since 1979. I’d never heard of the name Big Bert Grayson, but I asked my co-worker. He remembered the newsroom talk from the past about Grayson’s murder. Apparently it occurred not too far from the Mirror’s downtown location. The Mirror has since moved out of downtown.

Our archives here at the Mirror have information published at the time of the murder, plus an advertisement that was later published, offering a $10,000 reward, but not for any police officer or public official.

It all sounds interesting to me. I’m wondering if there might be a story there, and what you may have learned.

Glen

“Oh, sure. Does he think we’re going to share what we’ve learned with him?” Miranda said.

“I guess a lot of people would share what they’ve learned, eager to tell someone all the interesting and surprising facts they’ve uncovered, hoping to get their name in the paper. But we aren’t any of those people.”

Lee stood in front of Miranda with his arms crossed. “Listen, Kid, I need a way to hear what this person you’re going to meet is saying to you.”

Miranda got up from her chair, moved to a door in the computer room, and opened it.

“Come in here, I can solve that problem real easy.”

When she bent over rummaging through some boxes, he couldn’t help but notice how slim and sexy she looked.

“Okay, Lee, that’s enough. I can feel your eyes ogling me.”

“Who, me? I don’t know what you’re talking about. But you are a beautiful woman.”

Lee was just about to reach out, put his arms around her when she stood, turned around, and handed him an earpiece while putting one into her ear.

“Put that bud in your ear, go outside, and tell me if you can hear me talking.”

“The cool air will be refreshing.” He stood on the front porch.

“Hey, Lee, can you hear me?”

“Loud and clear, so these should do the trick.”

On the way back into the house he spied an envelope lying on the porch beside the front door and snatched it up. He handed it to Miranda when he got back into the computer room.

“You got mail, Kid. This was laying on the front porch beside the door.”

“Mum,” she said as she read the return address. “I don’t know a Tommy Carson.”

Miranda read the letter, and then handed it to Lee, who read it out loud.

Miranda, I have been seeing your ads in the newspaper. I wonder why you want this information from so long ago. What is your connection to this murder? I happen to know that there have been many stories and rumors told over the years. I’m sure that people meant well, but everyone remembers things differently, especially after fifty years. I would love to hear some of what you’ve been told. You see, Miranda, I’m the person who found Big Bert’s body that night in the alley, and I have to think hard to remember what I know. If you’re interested in talking to me, meet me at seven o’clock tomorrow morning at the Coffee Grind in Bridgetown. Tommy.

Lee placed the letter on the desk and turned to Miranda.

“You’d think the Coffee Grind was the only coffee house in town.”

“Well, it is.”

“We’re certainly giving them our share of business this week,” Lee said. “That should be an interesting meeting tomorrow morning, but for now we need to concentrate on our meeting tonight.”

“Let’s get going,” Miranda said. “We don’t want to be late.

They pulled into an empty space in front of the coffee house.

“Hey, Kid, did you remember to grab the phony letters?”

“Yes, I’m ready for whatever comes my way. Try not to forget to put your earpiece in.”

“I’m ready for this, Miranda. You need to concentrate on your part. Stay in the car until 7:45. I’m going in now. Don’t forget to sit where we planned.”

“I’ll sit at the right table, if it’s empty when I come in.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I’ll take care of that.”

With a steaming cup of coffee in one hand he dropped a reserved sign on Miranda’s table, then walked to the back of the room. Behind the latticework wall he found a chair with a good view of the room and Miranda’s table. At the right time Miranda walked in, went to the bar and ordered a cup of coffee.

“We’ll bring your coffee out to you,” the barista said.

“Okay, thanks.”

Lee watched Miranda as she turned around, moving her head from side to side. “What are you looking for,” he whispered in her earpiece.

“I was looking at how full the room is,” she whispered. “Oh, good the table is empty.”

She walked to the table, picked up the reserved sign, put it in her pocket, and smiled.

“Good work, Lee.”

“I told you I’d take care of it.”

He saw her glance at the latticework wall.

She sat in the chair at the table facing the door. It was 8 P.M. The husky guy behind the coffee bar walked over, set her coffee on the table and slipped a piece of folded paper under her cup. She glanced up.

“The man sitting at that table over there . . .” He pointed to the back corner where an older gray-haired man was sitting. “Told me to give you this note.”

He turned, crossed the floor returning to his place behind the bar. Miranda glanced in the direction of a well-dressed elderly man sitting alone, leaning on his cane and making eye contact with her. She couldn’t help but notice how handsome he was for a gentlemen who appeared to be in his eighties or older. Nodding at him she unfolded the note reading it loud enough that Lee could hear.

“I’m glad to see you came alone, walk over here and take a seat at the table with me. I hope you brought the letters.” She paused for a moment, “Lee, what am I going to do now?”

“I’ll move to another seat back here where I can see you. Don’t forget, I can hear everything that’s said, so you’ll be okay. Don’t worry, I have your back.”

“Lee, it was hard for me to catch my breath for a few seconds. I think I was starting to panic, but it’s going away now.”

Miranda looked up at the man again. This time he tipped his hat smiling at her. She picked up her coffee and made her way over to his table.

“Thank you for coming, Miranda, please have a seat. I see you already have coffee.”

She placed her cup on the table and took a seat holding the man’s eye contact as she talked.

“Coffee is one of my favorite drinks, it has lots of antioxidants that are good for you and helps fight aging.”

“My dear, you are stunningly beautiful. You make me wish I were twenty years younger, but that is for another time. The only thing coffee does for me anymore is keep me up at night. Insomnia, I think, or maybe old age.”

“So who are you and why do you want these letters?”

“We will get to that in a minute, but first I want to see the letters.”

“Oh, no, that isn’t going to happen until you tell me why you want them.”

“Good girl,” Lee said.

“Okay, I’m a local historian. I tried to buy the rights to the letters from Lillian after she wrote them many years ago, but she wouldn’t sell them to me she wanted nothing to do with me back then.”

“You’re Robert Mason?”

“Yes. I think I had Lillian convinced to sell me half of the rights until old piano legs Sara Dowell stuck her nose in telling Lillian not to deal with me at any price. Both of them are dead now.

To answer your question. Fifty years ago I wrote an exposé on the Conn Railroad, exposing to the world the iron fisted control they had over their employees and the people of Bridgetown. Lillian had all the information on the police department as well as the corruption of the government officials running the town. She intended to write and publish a book revealing their great cover-up of the truth. I wanted to add what I knew to what Lillian knew and clean up this town, but Lillian didn’t trust me.”

“Why didn’t she trust you?”

“I think it all goes back to Sara. She convinced Lillian not to have an alliance with me. Sara was my cousin, and we never got along. I think she was jealous of my success.”

“That sounds like a good story, Robert, but I’m not buying it.”

“Good girl. Keep him talking.”

“There are a lot of incriminating statements in those letters. I know the people who want them burned so no one can read them. I want to prevent that so I can finish my book.”

“Miranda pointed her finger at Robert. “Finish the book or continue to keep the truth hidden? Who are these people who want the letters burned?”

“You do not understand what you are getting involved with, missy.” His eyes were beginning to narrow and turn cold.

“Woo. But you just said you wanted to finish the book Lillian started.”

He leaned back in his chair in a simpering manner.

“I am, but it will be different than what she would have written. Mine will make sense and clear up all the crazy things Lillian said.”

“So, Robert, who is backing you?”

“Good question, Kid. Keep him talking,” Lee said.

“I do not know what you mean. I am independently wealthy. I do not need a backer. I own my own satellite company worth billions.” He leaned forward raising his eyebrows while holding her eye contact.

“Kid, maybe he’s the one spying on us.”

“Now that we have that settled, I would like to get back to the book and the letters,” Robert said.

“Who said it was settled? Have you been using your satellites to watch us and listening to everything we were talking about? We could sense we were being spied on by someone, but we didn’t know who or why.”

“My company builds and sells satellites to anyone who has the money. I don’t know what they do with them that is their business. I have sold them to businesses and people living in this area.”

“Well that may be, but someone is watching and listening to everything we say and do. If it isn’t you, then who?”

“I didn’t ask you here to talk about my satellite business. Now I would like to get back to the letters and the book.”

“Wow, is he avoiding the question or what?” Lee said.

“My book will be far better than the one Lillian would have written. Lillian was bitter and full of hate for her husband men in general,” Robert said.

Miranda gestured with her arms. “Oh, come on can’t you do better than that? Why is it when a man is opposed by a woman he accuses her of being filled with hate for all men? That’s what a man says when he’s cornered, and Robert, that isn’t what I got from her letters. I’m not so sure Lillian would have wanted you to have them. There has to be a reason she didn’t give them to you back then. I don’t know what it was, but I think for right now I’ll keep them. There’s no deal. Not now, maybe not ever.”

“You tell that old goat, Kid,” Lee said.

“But Miranda, I am willing to give you twenty thousand dollars for them.”

“Wow, this guy wants them in a bad way,” Lee said.

“I don’t think so.” Miranda’s eyes narrowed into a glaring stare.

Robert slammed his fist on the tabletop. Heads turned in their direction. She watched his handsome face transform into an ugly, twisted mass of wrinkles. The cane in his hand shook under his uncontrollable anger. What Miranda saw next engulfed her entire body with fear as his eyes were flooded with a cold, distant, blinding, intensity. She had seen that look only one other time as an FBI agent, in the eyes of a cold-blooded killer just before she shot him to death. She shook her head trying to bring her thinking back to the present.

“You will change your mind Miss Witherspoon, and when you do you will sell them to me.”

“I will? Why?”

“I have my ways, young lady. You will come around to see things my way. You can’t continue to suppress the truth.” He paused, started to chuckle, and shake his head in uncontrollable frustration.

“Mr. Mason that sounds like a threat. Are you the one sending people to break into my home looking for what could only be the letters? While we were in the cemetery the other day someone shot at us. Did you have anything to do with that?”

“Oh. I don’t know anything about a shooting. I do know that someone other than me wants the letters. I don’t know the other people; I know of them. I would suggest that you be extremely careful. Watch your back. I am not the kind of person to come at you from behind. I will face you straight on and tell you what I want, no matter how it looks in just the same way I am doing now. I guess you could say, I have no shame. Listen to me, Miss Witherspoon; I am too old to be concerned with what people think of me. Heck, I could die tonight in my sleep and this would all be for naught. Watch your back, Miss Witherspoon, and by all means enjoy the rest of the evening.”