A Killer Read (20 page)

“Ahh, yes, she reminds me of a Jack Daniels terrier: just sinks her teeth in and shakes things around.”

“A pit bull, I was thinking.”

George laughed. “Close enough. You could be right about her, but Chief Dreyfus seems on top of it. He was in asking the exact same question.”

“Good. And what did you tell him?”

“Not much, I’m afraid. I found some ads for a Telford Construction and a new business development, with a Stoney Mills phone number that’s long out of date. That was in 1966. We didn’t do a story on it, so I guess it didn’t merit any follow-up. Sorry.”

Lizzie sighed. So Nathaniel was right. Score one for him. “Oh well, you never know. He was a very secretive man, I think. Thank you, anyway.” She stood up to leave.

George put out his hand to shake. “Anytime, Lizzie. And don’t be a stranger, you hear?”

T
his time she heard him. She leapt out of bed after a quick glance at the clock. Two thirty
A. M.
The cats scattered as she ran downstairs, not bothering to grab her bathrobe. She yanked open the front door as a bicycle turned from her driveway, left on Sidcup, and tore away from the house. She followed as far as the street but lost sight. She started shivering and realized she didn’t have slippers on. Although the days were blessed with a lingering summer sun, the nights showed the season’s true colors and warned that it really was autumn.

She glanced at Nathaniel’s darkened windows. He’d be in bed by now, she thought, running back to her front door. She retrieved the manila envelope from her mailbox, grabbed a sweatshirt from the hall closet and poured a small glass of brandy.

Might as well read it since I’m wide awake now.
As soon as Lizzie sat in her favorite chair, Brie leapt to snuggle in her lap, while Edam stretched out on the top of the backrest.

Lizzie started reading.

Lizzie didn’t look up until she’d reached the end of chapter twelve. She was startled to see it was only three o’clock. She felt as if she’d been visiting in the story a longer time. As she moved to stretch, the cats leapt off and, giving her a look of disdain, sauntered into the kitchen, where she heard their chomping on dried food a few seconds later.

She wished she had left the reading until the afternoon. She knew she’d have a hard time sleeping after being in the Fowkses’ world, where the mother, desperate after being fired when she told her boss about carrying his child, swallows an entire bottle of sleeping pills and dies. The child,
Carla, finds her mother and runs next door for help. With no family around to take her in, Carla is put into foster care and begins a journey filled with rejection and sadness.

Lizzie was glad there were only three chapters tonight. She didn’t like where the story was headed, especially since she was pretty certain it was all true.
Why do I think that?
A gut reaction, she realized. She also realized she hadn’t yet spoken to Sally-Jo to see if she felt the same way. She’d ask her friend her opinion tomorrow… no, today, for sure.

I
t wasn’t until the lunch break that Lizzie was able to track down Sally-Jo. She waited, a tad impatiently, until Sally-Jo had finished talking to one of the male teachers, somebody new whom Lizzie didn’t know. “So, tell me what you thought about the story?”

Sally-Jo sat down and poked about in her brown bag lunch. She pulled out a sandwich in a plastic bag, along with a paper napkin. She pushed her glasses up over her forehead to sit atop her head. “Story? Oh, you mean the manuscript. So, why do you think it’s a true story?”

“I’m trying to keep an open mind.”

“No you’re not. I think part of you has decided it’s true. I’m not so certain, but it does read like a journal with an attempt to fictionalize it. Sort of Truman Capote-ish. Although nowhere near as well written. That makes it even creepier, doesn’t it? Having it anonymously left in your mailbox and all. I wonder if you’ll ever learn who’s leaving it.”

“Well, I got another three chapters overnight. I’ve no idea how this ends, but I suspect it’s moving toward a denouement pretty soon. Unless it turns out to be a saga of redress and redemption.”

“It’s bugging you, isn’t it?”

“Absolutely. I’m curious, and it’s an upsetting story.” Lizzie took a bite of her tuna salad wrap. “It’s just that so many odd things have happened recently. First the murder
in front of Molly’s. Then the manuscript starts arriving. And then the phone call I got the other night.”

“What phone call? You haven’t mentioned it before. Who called and what did he or she say?” Sally-Jo dropped her sandwich and leaned forward.

“Well…,” Lizzie hedged. Maybe she shouldn’t have mentioned the phone call. It was probably just a coincidence. But what if all these events were connected— the murder, the manuscript and the phone call? She wanted Sally-Jo’s take on it, so she told her.

“Man, that’s creepy,” Sally-Jo said when Lizzie had finished. “He— or she— is not threatening you, but obviously this person wants you to look into that story your daddy was working on. And you have no idea what the story was about?”

“No. I think I’ll ask George Havers at the
Colonist
if he knows, though, or if he can check it out for me. He worked with Daddy at one time, so he may know where to look. I’m hoping. Anyway, you do agree it’s strange all this is happening at the same time?” Lizzie looked at Sally-Jo hopefully. Part of her wanted Sally-Jo to agree while another part wanted to hear that, no, it was nothing odd, that sometimes odd things happened in threes.

Sally-Jo took a couple of minutes in answering. “I’m not sure what to think or say, Lizzie. I do believe in coincidences, but on the other hand, there’s someone who’s behind each of these events. Whether or not they’re tied in, is another matter.

“Maybe it’s time to tell Chief Dreyfus about the manuscript,” Sally-Jo went on. “I’m assuming you haven’t told him because you haven’t mentioned it.”

Lizzie nodded. “You’re right, I haven’t. I’ll tell him next time I see him.”

“And, Lizzie, if you’re feeling at all nervous about being alone, you’re welcome to move into my house for a while. I’ve got plenty of spare rooms.”

“Thanks. I’m okay. I’ve got Edam and Brie, with Nathaniel Creely next door keeping an eye on things.” Although he hadn’t seen the delivery last night.

Lizzie hurried over to Molly’s after school for her tutoring session with Andie. After about twenty minutes with nothing more than monosyllabic answers, Lizzie’s concern about Andie’s mental state increased to the point where she finally asked what was wrong.

“Nada.”

“Sure. That’s the impression I’m getting.” Lizzie watched a few moments longer as Andie slouched in the chair, head down, book open, looking studious except for the fact the pages hadn’t turned since she’d arrived. She certainly looked the same as normal, or what was normal for Andie. Her black hair sported yellow streaks today, her black T-shirt was covered with yellow and red eyeballs, her jeans looked as if one more laundering would do them in, and she wore a fingerless lace glove on her left hand. Her black Puma sneakers looked to be brand-new, though. Not a speck of mud or grass stain on them. Teens did have their priorities, after all.

Andie lacked spark. There was none of that assertive-bordering-on-aggressive energy that often had Lizzie wondering if she’d last the session or just suddenly leap out of her chair and burst out the door.

After a few more minutes of watching, Lizzie said, “I don’t want to pry, Andie, but I can tell something’s bothering you. I just want you to know that if you’d like to talk about it, now or some other time, I’m happy to listen.”

Andie looked up at her, opened her mouth but then shut it again. She tapped her right foot a couple of times, then shut her book and stuffed it back in her backpack. “It’s not working for me today, Lizzie. Can we just skip this session? I’ll come in another time if you want.”

Lizzie nodded. “Sure. We’ll figure that out later. And remember what I said. Bye for now.”

She watched as Andie trudged out of the room. Something pretty serious was getting her down. She wondered if it had anything to do with Stephanie, or maybe it was rooted at home. She was tempted to pay Mrs. Mason a visit and see how things were going. However, she also realized that if Andie found out, she’d probably never open up to her about any problems. She’d just wait it out and hope for the best.

L
izzie groaned and reached out for the ringing telephone beside her bed. She managed to get one eye open and groaned again when she realized the clock showed three
A. M.
Mama.
She jolted totally awake. She snatched the receiver, croaking out, “Hello?”

“Did you figure out what story your pa was covering when he died?” The same voice. She was sure. Then the dial tone.

She switched on the lamp and wrote it down. Then tried to get back to sleep, but the question played on a loop in her brain. No, she hadn’t, was the answer, but it looked like she’d better talk to George Havers again.

What was the story and who was the caller and why was it so important to him? Or her? What had her daddy been up to? She glanced at the clock and groaned again. She had to get up in less than three hours.

She tried all the tricks she knew. Thinking of the fifty things to buy if she won the lottery. The fifty places she
wanted to visit. The fifty activities she had to try before she died. She even counted sheep. The next thing she knew, the alarm woke her.

A run, a shower, and a protein drink for breakfast, followed by two cups of coffee had her feeling almost ready to take on the day. She fed the cats and gave them each a quick brushing. Edam wound his way around her legs as she removed a handful of fur from the brush and deposited it in the garbage. He followed her upstairs and stretched out on the black skirt she’d laid out on the bed. She mentally slapped her forehead for leaving it there. She knew that black clothing was a cat magnet in this house. After relocating Edam to the afghan on the chair, she brushed the skirt with a damp sponge and then dressed quickly. She grabbed her school gear and opened the front door— and found Andie sitting on the top step.

“Andie, what are you doing here?”

“I thought you could drop me off at school and we could talk on the way.”

“Sure. I’m on my way now.” Lizzie locked the door and walked over to the Mazda, Andie following her.

They got in and Lizzie waited until they’d both belted up, then asked, “Is there a problem?”

Andie shook her head. “Not with me. It’s Stephanie.”