A Killer Read (33 page)

Her childhood was neatly tied up in a few lines about foster parents and moving around a lot until suddenly, at the bottom of the second page, Carla returned to her hometown, a young woman of seventeen, a young son in tow.

She eventually gave up trying to exorcise the ghosts of the past, escaping instead into a bottle. By the time her son, Duwo she nicknamed him, was himself a teenager, Carla had been through a succession of men, jobs and welfare workers. When Duwo was removed from her care, she checked into a rehab facility, and years later, back out in the world and sober, she started writing her life story as therapy, realizing that she needed to exorcise all the demons from the time of her parents’ suicides. She’d spent so many years blaming the men who’d swindled him, she’d totally let it ruin her life. And her son’s.

Insight often comes too late, she ended with in the final paragraph. The residual damage is sometimes the worst part of it all. And one must try desperate means to make amends.

“H
old up, folks. I call this meeting of the Ashton Corners Mystery Readers and Cheese Straws Society to order,” Bob said above the chattering of six highly excited people in Molly’s library.

Molly sat next to Lizzie. In fact, she’d stuck close to her, a plate of shortbread cookies in hand, ever since Lizzie had arrived an hour earlier. She’d pumped Lizzie for every detail about the accident and frowned at what she considered a less-than-satisfactory conclusion.

“It’s one thing for a complete stranger to be murdered,” she’d said. “That was pretty horrific. But when someone you care a great deal about is in jeopardy, that’s the stuff of nightmares. I want you to promise me, young lady, that you will not put yourself in such a situation again.”

“Stop investigating?”

“Well, that would be the smart thing to do. Leave the danger to the police. But I have a feeling you won’t give up that easily. So my main concern would be the traipsing off and asking questions. I hate to sound sexist, but promise me you’ll take a man with you next time.”

Molly had looked so distressed that Lizzie had bit back her immediate retort and said instead, “That’s probably a good idea, Molly. I’ll see who’s arm I can twist.”

“I suppose if you asked Mark, he’d forbid you from doing it.”

“That’s a good guess. I’ll think on it, Molly.” She’d squeezed her friend’s hand and gone back to setting the eats out on trays.

Now, they were waiting for everyone to quiet down. Finally, Bob said, “All right, you two. Let’s have it. What were you up to yesterday before all hell broke loose?”

Lizzie explained the basics, while Sally-Jo added some of the color. When they’d finished, everyone sat silently for
several minutes. Stephanie took a long drink from her glass of water.

Andie was the first to break the silence. “Well, that sucks. You’re getting so close, I know it, and then that has to happen.”

Lizzie nodded.

Andie drummed her fingers on the arm of the chair, then said, leaping up, “Molly, can I use your computer? I just want to see if anything new has turned up on all those names I’ve been searching on.”

“You sure can, honey,” Molly said and led Andie to the small anteroom off the library that she used as an office.

Bob said, “I’ll check out Prescottville and also Stoney Mills again. I don’t want you two anywhere near that town again.” He looked over at Jacob. “Maybe you could distract our Sally-Jo here and get her mind off investigating. I know I’ll have to work fast if we want Lizzie to back off.” He looked at Lizzie sternly. “This is getting rough, little girl, and you don’t want to be around it.”

Lizzie took great care in choosing her words. “I’m curious as to what you know about all this, Bob.”

“What do you mean?” he sputtered. His bushy graying eyebrows drew together as his mouth dipped in a frown. His glasses perched precariously near the tip of his nose.

“Well, it’s been bothering me for a couple of days now. When we last discussed the manuscript, you seemed to drop out of the conversation, and you were the first to ask to take the story home to read some more.” It had been bothering her, but she wasn’t sure if she was making more out of it than necessary.

“I think this investigating thing is getting you going, girl,” he finally said, with a small laugh. “You got to watch out, you’ll be seeing conspiracies and bad guys all over the place. And speaking of which, here’s your manuscript.”

Molly had come back into the room during the conversation.
“No, she’s right, Bob. You were mighty quiet there. What is there you’re not telling us?”

Bob looked at her and opened his mouth, then shut it quickly. “That’s a fine thing, Molly Mathews,” he huffed, “accusing me of all sorts. You two ladies don’t know what you’re talking about. Now, getting back to what I was saying, you leave the nosing around to me from now on. Meeting adjourned.”

He grabbed his baseball cap from the floor beside his chair and headed for the door, snatching a couple of cheese straws from the table as he walked by.

Molly sat staring at the door he’d closed behind himself. “Well, I’ll be.”

Stephanie’s knitting needles clicked faster. “I think y’all have gone and hurt his feelings.”

“Harrumph,” Molly said. “His feelings have such thick calluses grown around them, there’s no fear of that. Now, how about we discuss books, since you’re all here?”

Andie called out at that moment. “Lizzie, come on in here and have a look at what I found.”

They all followed Lizzie and hovered while Andie read from the screen. “It’s a Facebook page in Harlan Fowks’s name. It wasn’t here a few days ago when I checked. It shows his picture— here, take a look.”

They all crowded around. “He looks to be in his late twenties or early thirties,” Jacob said. “That’s quite an old photo, though. Very grainy.”

“That would be the right age for the Harlan in the manuscript,” Lizzie said.

“There’s nothing here except for this one posting on his wall,” Andie continued. “If you want a study in injustice, here’s Harlan Fowks. Died at age thirty-two by his own hand, unable to bear the shame and the hardship his family suffered because of his trying to better his lot in life. His real murderers are the unscrupulous land developers who
sucked him into their schemes. Isn’t it about time the real devils paid?’”

Andie finished reading and no one said a thing. Finally, she said with a small laugh, “They always say end a Facebook comment with a question. Try to draw readers in. Nobody’s posting here, though.”

Lizzie shivered. “That’s so sad but also very scary. I’ll tell Mark about it.” She was suddenly very anxious to get home and reread those last pages of the manuscript.

L
izzie glanced at the clock. One
A. M.
She yawned noisily as she set the manuscript aside. She’d wanted to check it out again and see if she’d missed anything. Nothing leapt out at her.

That’s it
, Lizzie thought.
It is the end, but it’s also a beginning, perhaps
. Would she ever meet this person? And what was Carla’s next move?

Lizzie slowly got ready for bed and crawled in but lay awake wondering what it might be. She was seriously thinking about stopping in at the health food store and snagging some organic sleeping pills. This had to stop. She needed her sleep, after all.

The phone rang, jolting her totally awake. Two
A. M.
She sat up and reached for it, wondering what her mystery caller would say this time. She thought she was prepared.

She wasn’t prepared to hear Molly’s voice, however. “Lizzie… I’m so sorry to wake you, honey, but I’ve just
had the most upsetting thing happen. I just needed to talk to you while I’m waiting for the police.”

“The police? What’s wrong?” Lizzie screeched.

“Well, I’m hoping it’s not much, but my house alarm just went off. The alarm company called to tell me the back patio door had been breached and that the police are on the way. I’m supposed to stay on the line with them, but I wanted to talk to you instead.”

“I’m on my way over, Molly. Where are you? Upstairs, I hope?”

“Yes. I’m in my en suite, and I’ve locked the door. Oh, I hear the sirens now. I believe the police have arrived.”

“Molly, stay put until the police have searched the house and come and find you. Don’t go out in the hall. The guy may still be there.”

“I know, Lizzie. I’ll stay put. I can hear the police shouting downstairs. You shouldn’t bother coming over.”

“There’s no way I’m not coming over. Where are the police now?”

“I hear them on this floor, probably in the hall outside my bedroom. Oh, they’re in the bedroom. I’d better hang up now. I’ll see you soon then.”

Lizzie didn’t even have time to say good-bye. She leaped out of bed, scattering the cats, and quickly pulled on some yoga pants she used for running, and a sweatshirt. She grabbed her purse and keys and flew out the door.

The red and blue strobe lights of the police cruisers welcomed Lizzie, though the police officers were less than happy to see her. She was explaining to one of the unknown officers that Molly had called her, when she heard Mark’s voice call out that it was okay for her to enter the house.

“How is Molly? Is she all right?” she asked Mark as soon as she got to him.

“She’s just fine, Lizzie. She’s had a fright, but she’s not hurt.”

“What happened? She said someone broke in? Did you catch the guy?”

He put his hands on her shoulders. “Slow down and take a deep breath. Now, there was a break-in. Someone smashed the window in the back door and managed to stick his arm through and unlock the dead bolt from the inside, but he was gone by the time we got here. Guess the alarm scared him off. He left a calling card of some blood on the broken glass, though.”

“Good. You can find out from that who he is, can’t you?”

Mark nodded. “But only if he’s in our data system, and it takes awhile, too. This isn’t like a TV show, where it’s all figured out in an hour.”

Lizzie slumped. “I know. It’s just such a frightening thing to have happen. Can I see Molly?”

“She’s in the library with Officer Craig.”

“That’s sure to soothe her,” Lizzie muttered as she went along the hall to the library. She flung the door open and was surprised to see Officer Craig kneeling beside a seated Molly. It actually sounded to Lizzie as if Officer Craig murmured soft and encouraging words.

“Molly, are you sure you’re okay?” Lizzie asked, making her way across the room.

Molly rose and opened her arms to Lizzie. “I’m fine, honey. I shouldn’t have bothered you. But thank you for rushing over.” They hugged each other for a couple of minutes until Officer Craig broke the silence.

“I’ll just get back to the investigation, Ms. Mathews.” She nodded at Lizzie and left the room.

Lizzie looked at Molly, unable to hide her surprise.

“I know, I know,” Molly said. “She’s been very supportive and kind. Really a totally different side of our intrepid officer. Now, you have school tomorrow, and I’m already feeling silly for calling you. You should go home and get some sleep.”

“I can sleep tomorrow night,” Lizzie said, wrapping her arm around Molly’s waist. “Let’s see if we can get you a cup of hot tea, and I’ll wait with you.”

The young officer at the door to the kitchen advised them not to enter, so they returned to the library, where Molly opened the doors of a solid oak credenza tucked in a small alcove next to the door to the restroom. She pulled out a bottle of brandy and two glasses.

“Claydon had a stash in every room… for emergencies. I’d say this qualifies. I hope this brandy is still okay. I don’t know when I last used it.” She poured them each a small amount and took a tentative taste. “Seems fine.”

They sat across from each other and sipped.

“I wonder if this is tied to the Telford case,” Lizzie said.

Molly held her glass up to the light and watched the colors swirl. “Or it could be a random attempt at a break-in. They don’t happen very often around here, but it’s possible.”