by Levi Fuller
“Not you?” Margo asked.
Marcia shook her head. “Not you?”
Margo shook her head.
“Who’s making the coffee?” they asked together.
They stared at each other a moment.
“I’ll get mine,” Margo said and disappeared into her room.
Marcia waited until Margo returned, holding a Glock in her hand. Whoever had brewed the coffee had better have a good excuse for being in their cabin.
Margo led the way, Marcia, a step behind. They reached the bottom of the stairs before spotting a man sitting at the table, reading a book with a cup of coffee in front of him. He had reading glasses at the end of his nose and was dressed in worn jeans, cowboy boots, and a plaid shirt. He looked far too comfortable sitting at their kitchen table.
“Who are you, and what are you doing here?” Margo snapped at him.
The man held up a single finger as if needing more time. The sisters gave each other confused looks. Who was this man? A few seconds later, he closed his book.
“I hate to leave off in the middle of a chapter,” he said. “When I retired, I promised myself I would never do that again.”
“And you are...” Marcia asked.
“Sheriff John Males. Well, ex-sheriff. I guess I’m just too used to the title.”
“How did you get in?” Margo asked.
“If you don’t mind putting that Glock away, I’ll feel better.”
“And how are we to know that you’re really an ex-sheriff?” Marcia insisted, keeping the gun trained on him.
“Exactly,” Margo pipped up.
John pulled aside his jacket slowly, showing them the automatic in his hip holster. Then, he pulled out his wallet and opened it so that they could see his badge. “They let me keep it. Sort of an honorary thing.”
“So, you are an ex-sheriff,” Margo said. “How did you get in?”
“When I was working, for real, I made it a point to know where everyone kept their spare key. That comes in handy in an emergency,” he explained.
“We’ll have to move it, then,” Marcia said as she went to make herself some coffee.
Margo set her pistol on the counter and grabbed a seat across from John. “What are you reading?”
He held up the book. “Greek mythology. I always wanted to know more about all those gods, demigods, nymphs, and fairies. There is a lot more to it than I originally thought.”
“Who is your favorite?” Marcia asked as she set two cups on the table.
“Right now, I’m partial to Hercules. Here was a man who could get the job done.”
“He certainly could.”
“Well, we know who you are and how you got in. So, tell us why you’re here.”
John stood up and shuffled to the stove to get himself another cup of coffee. Marcia figured that he was seventy or older. Not in bad shape for his age, but he wouldn’t run any marathons.
“You two are the Fleming sisters, right?”
“You knew that before you broke in,” Margo said, crossing her arms.
“As a matter of fact, I did.”
“So, you also know what we do for a living,” Marcia added.
“Indeed, I do. I had to quit the myths for a day to read some of your stuff. It’s quite fascinating. And I say that as a former lawman.”
“We’re proud of our work,” Marcia said. “And we like cold cases.”
“Well, you certainly have one here. Tell me, did you really stab that alligator in the eye?”
Margo laughed. “Poetic license.”
“Thought so. Although, I knew a man once who took on a bear with nothing more than a machete.”
“Who won?” Marcia asked.
“It was a tie. The bear mauled him pretty good, but he cut him a couple of times too. They both lived to tell the tale. Well, the bear didn’t do much talking. Machete-man got shipped back to Mexico. So, he’s telling his story in Spanish these days.”
John came back to the table and sat.
“There’s only one reason why you two are here,” John said. “That would be the only cold case that’s worth solving in Havermill.”
“You’ve figured out why we’re here,” Marcia said. “But you haven’t told me why you’re here.”
“We’re both here for the same thing. Poor Mandy Salter. Fourteen. Pretty thing and a very talented volleyball player. I’m guessing Becky managed to talk you into coming, and I don’t blame you. Just take a look at her... She would do anything to know what happened. I don’t know what you promised her, but if you told her you were going to discover the answer, then, well, I’d say you’re feeding her a line of bull.”
John gave them a tight smile and sipped his coffee.
“We don’t feed anyone a line of bull,” Margo said. “If you’ve read our books, then you know we solved those murders legitimately.”
“We’re not frauds, Sheriff Males,” Marcia added.
“I know you did some good work and maybe got a little lucky. I understand that. But this is Mandy Salter in Havermill. This is as cold as it gets.”
“Well, if you don’t think we can do the job, what are you doing here?”
“Hells bells, missy, if I were you, I’d want to question the sheriff involved right off.”
The sisters gave him a blank stare.
“I’m here,” he said, leaning back in his seat. “Ask away.”
CHAPTER5
“All right,” Marcia said. “Let’s start at the beginning. What do you know about the victim, Mandy Salter?”
“The usual stuff,” John answered. “Fourteen. Freshman in high school. Good student, good athlete. Had a boyfriend of sorts. You know how high school romances go. Some kissing, some touching, but she was a virgin when she died. I suppose you’ve read the autopsy report, so I won’t bore you with the details. Mandy had a good relationship with her parents, as far as it goes. They had the usual arguments about school and dating, but nothing serious. Her father was a long-haul trucker. Their relationship was not close, like with her mother.”
“The boyfriend,” Margo said, eager to hear more. “What about him?”
“Randy Nokes. Played freshman football and basketball. A nice looking kid who wasn’t all that good with grades. Not the smartest kid. Dropped out of school during junior year and became a pothead. I haven’t seen Randy lately, but I doubt you’ll get much out of him. Did he have an alibi for Mandy’s death? Not really. He was supposedly home, but no one could prove that. Randy didn’t have a good reason to kill Mandy, but then, boyfriends don’t always have good reasons.”
“Who was your chief suspect?” Marcia asked.
“At first, we concentrated on Nokes and a neighbor, Billy Peters. Billy was an odd duck. Lived alone in a shack in the woods. He was weird with a capital ‘W,’ but he had no history of violence. It was only after he moved West that we found it. Everyone thought Billy was too simple to make hooch. He fooled us. I always suspected he had a marijuana farm somewhere in the forest, but I never found it.”
“Mandy was gone for four days. Where was she kept?” Margo asked.
John shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine. Culpepper County is a big county that is sparsely populated. There is lots of woods, a few caves, lots of places to stash a teenage girl.”
“Ever found her clothes or backpack?” Marcia added.
“Nope. Nothing ever turned up, and you would think that someone would happen upon them in twenty years. So, we guessed everything went up in smoke.”
Margo and Marcia exchanged a look. “That makes sense. Who else was on your list?”
“Well, we looked at the male teachers at the school. Most of them had solid alibis. A couple were shaky, but they didn’t have any motive. And the motive was the key factor. No one had a reason to grab Mandy and kill her after four days of torture.”
“Someone had a reason,” Margo added, her tone insistent.
“You’re right there,” the sheriff replied.
�
�What did you make of the torture?” Margo continued.
“What anyone would conclude. She knew something that someone wanted. So, when she didn’t give it up, they applied a little pressure.”
“But they didn’t beat her, right?”
“No, just the burns. Sadistic and probably successful. She either gave up what she knew, or the kidnapper discovered she didn’t know anything. He strangled her and dumped the body.”
“But Mandy wasn’t involved in drugs, correct?” Marcia added. They had gone through the reports, after all.
“As far as we knew, no. She was clean. The autopsy showed that. We fashioned a theory after Billy Peters left. Mandy found the farm. He took her and kept her in the shack. He tortured her to find out if she had told someone. When he discovered that she hadn’t, he strangled her, burned her stuff, and dumped her body.”
“Did you go after Billy?”
“We did. Couldn’t find him. He was last seen in Oregon, up in the mountains. The guy disappeared. The locals believe Billy tried to fit into the marijuana market up there. The cartel gangs killed him and dumped the body somewhere. His burned-out truck was later found in Washington.”
“Do you still think it’s Billy?”
“To tell the truth, I never thought it was Billy. I mean, he pushed drugs and moonshine, but I never figured him to be a killer. He was the live-and-let-live type. We did go through his shack with all we had. There was no trace of Mandy. And Billy wasn’t addicted to cleanliness.”
“It’s been twenty years,” Marcia said. “Did you ever come up with a new theory, with any new leads?”
“For a time, we thought maybe a trucker had taken her. You know, held her for four days, killed her, and unloaded the body. Tossed her things out the window from here to California. But she wasn’t molested. No trucker is going to take a girl like that and settle for some cigarette burns.”
“The teeth,” Margo said, remembering the unusual detail. “What about the teeth?”
John smiled. “You know, I always thought the teeth were the key. Find the teeth, and you solve the murder. But we never found the teeth. If they were dumped, we’d never found them. I always thought they were souvenirs. I thought someone had them and looked at them from time to time, reliving the murder. But there have been no more murdered girls around here. You’re not looking for a serial killer.”
“I’m guessing you kept tabs on murdered girls throughout the area.”
“Not just here. I looked into every similar murder in the country, but none of them were like Mandy’s.”
The sisters exchanged dejected looks. They had gleaned very little new information that they didn’t already know. It was time to move on.
“All right,” Marcia said. “Any words of advice for us? Any direction we should look into?”
John stretched in his seat. Margo heard his bones crack and winced at the sound.
“Best advice? Don’t get old.” John chuckled. “Unfortunately, no one can do anything about that.” He stood and grabbed his book. “I’ve ruminated on Mandy Salter often during the last twenty years. I’ve asked myself a thousand times if there was a lead I hadn’t chased. But I went after everything that I could. You probably won’t believe this, but I brought in a psychic, who was supposed to locate her missing stuff. The psychic had all sorts of hints, but they didn’t amount to squat. So, no, I don’t have a new idea for you. Your best bet is to rework the old ground. Maybe you can get a weed to grow into a flower or something,” he replied. It wasn’t terribly useful advice.
The sisters stood and shook hands with John.
“Next time,” Margo said. “Knock before you come through the door.”
John laid a key on the table. “Won’t be a next time. Hide that key where I won’t find it.”
The sisters watched him walk out of the door before they turned to each other once more.
“What do you think?” Marcia asked.
“I think I need more coffee,” Margo answered while rubbing her temples.
Later that day, they realized that if the former sheriff was the epitome of cooperation, the newer sheriff, Black Wallace, was anything but. The sisters stopped in to introduce themselves since they would be roaming about the county, asking questions. It was usually a good idea to contact the local authorities before beginning their work.
“I’ll be blunt with you,” Sheriff Wallace said. “I’ve heard of you both, and I know you’ve achieved some success on cold cases, but you’re going to be nothing but a nuisance for me. The Mandy Salter case is not just cold; it’s frigid. In the last twenty years, half a dozen ‘detectives’ have come here, hoping to solve the murder. None of them came even close. All they did was muddy an already black puddle if you catch my meaning.”
The sisters regarded the stern man standing before them. His uniform looked sharp, and he wore a gold watch on one wrist and a gold bracelet on the other. His pale blue eyes were clear, a sign that he didn’t drink too much. He was a man not to be trifled with. Marcia was sure that she would not want to work for him.
“We understand that,” Marcia said in a patient tone. She regularly handled the sheriffs, as she was slower to anger than Margo. “And we don’t intend to cause any trouble or step on any toes. Of course, any help you can throw our way would be welcome.”
“There hasn’t been one comma or period added to the case in the past ten years. I don’t think you two are going to write a new chapter. So, I’ll give you this advice. Stay out of my hair and don’t break any laws. That means no breaking and entering because you have a suspicion that there’s evidence inside. Don’t trespass, and don’t harass. You’re welcome here, as long as you don’t get in the way, like the production company that came here to film a documentary. I had to chase them out of the state.”
“We won’t break any laws,” Marcia said. “And we know the boundaries. If we do uncover something, we’ll share and give you credit. That’s how we do things.”
“If you would,” he said, “would you tell me when you leave? I have a feeling you’re going to rile up some folks, and well, I’d like to be able to tell them that you’re gone.”
“We’ll make sure you know. Can you give us directions to the house of Tanya Abbot? We understand she was Mandy’s best friend in high school.”
“If it means you’ll be getting out of here sooner, then I’ll give you all kinds of directions...”
On the way to the car, Marcia looked over and noticed how Margo’s red lips were pressed into a thin line, a sure sign that she was angry.
“Not exactly the welcome mat, is it?” Marcia asked.
“Don’t get me started,” Margo answered. “If that pompous ass thinks we’re going to share the limelight with him, he’s kidding himself. In fact, I’ll make sure the book says exactly how much help he’s been.”
“Control it for now,” Marcia said. “He might prove useful later, especially if he thinks he’s going to get any credit.”
“I know, I know, but it’s still frustrating. You would think he’d want us to solve the case.”
Marcia fired back, “Unless he was involved.”
At her words, Margo frowned and gave her a measuring look. “You don’t think...”
“I think we need to know what Blake Wallace was doing twenty years ago. If this county is like most others, then Blake’s family goes back a ways. How old do you think he is?”
“Fifty maybe.”
“Which made him thirty when Mandy was killed. Thirty is probably about the right age, don’t you think?”
“You’re wicked, Marcia. Do you really think he might have killed the girl?”
“I’ll tell you a secret. I did a bit of follow-up research on the sheriff. His son was stopped for DUI two years ago. The charges went away, as you would expect. What do you want to bet that the sheriff had his run-ins with the law when he was younger?”
“Before he found religion. Makes sense. The apple never falls too far from the tree.”
/> It wasn’t until Margo loaded the address into the GPS that she discovered the sheriff had given her the wrong directions.
“That asshole,” Margo fumed.
“Not exactly a prince of a fellow, is he?”
“Another reason to solve this case and rub his nose in it.”
The house they wanted was on the other side of Havermill. They drove past the newly developed area, with its McDonald’s and Burger King and Pizza Hut. There was a Walmart and a couple of gas stations lining the main road. Past it, they entered the older, eclectic neighborhoods. A nice two-story house might stand side-by-side with a tiny, one-story clapboard house, in need of fresh paint. They were reminded that the cookie-cutter additions were modern inventions. The downtown area consisted of two streets lined with small brick buildings. A quarter of the buildings stood vacant, which said all that needed to be said about the town's financial situation. The rest of the buildings were bars and taverns.
The high school that Mandy had attended was sitting opposite the new business area. The student parking lot was half-filled with pickup trucks of various ages and conditions, with more recent cars in the faculty section. It wasn’t noon yet, and there wasn’t any activity outside the building. The football stadium, a staple of any high school in the state, stood to the side.
On the other side, the sisters found Meadowland, a small housing development with similar houses. Marcia guessed that the original plans must have been more impressive than it was today. But that was before the other side of town had started to expand.
When Marcia spotted the flashing blue lights of a police car in her rearview, she pulled over, wondering what she had done wrong. When the car whipped past them, Marcia felt relieved. The police weren’t after her. When they finally reached their destination, she felt anxiety bubbling up to the surface. The police car was sitting in the drive with its lights still flashing. Something was wrong.
CHAPTER6
The sisters parked on the street and got out of the car, wondering what to do next. Out of the house came two police officers. They briefly looked at the sisters but didn’t say a single word before climbing back into their cruiser. They shut off the lights and drove away, leaving the sisters to glance in confusion at the house. What had just happened?