Last Girls Alive: A totally addictive crime thriller and mystery novel (Detective Katie Scott Book 4)
Page 18
Katie leaned in to read his computer. “It can’t be that bad.”
“Oh, you have no idea. I cannot find anything about the books—or any bookstore who carries them. The only thing I can find out from these chat areas is that there’s an old bookstore over on the south end. It’s a mystery shop for only ‘invited’ people. There’s no sign or indication on the building that there’s any type of business there.”
“What do you mean?” Katie said.
“Well, it’s where people dress up as some character from books and mingle. But the owner, a Donald L. Holmes, supposedly has the most extensive book collection, especially anything written from 1940 through the 1960s.”
“Are you kidding me?”
“I just report the facts.”
“And his last name is Holmes?” Katie rolled her eyes.
“Actually, I checked his background, and yes, his name really is Donald Lee Holmes.”
“Okay, let’s get on the phone, divide up calls, and see what we can do today. It’s still early and we can cover a lot of ground if we get started now—sound good? You up to it?”
Picking up his cell phone, McGaven said with enthusiasm, “I’m on it.”
Later that morning, Katie turned the sedan down a narrow lane without a sign and continued along a driveway that seemed more like a walking path than anything fit for a car. She slowed her speed. The instructions were to take a left at the broken fence and then proceed until there were four trees in a circle.
Crowley Creek was a small town of 200 acres that ran along the edge of the county. It technically wasn’t a town, but it had a population of sixteen people incorporating two families, along with a gas station, feed store, and a small grocery and supply store that also doubled as the post office.
Katie stopped the car to look out the window at the cluster of trees. “What do you think? Does that look like four pine trees in a circle?” She wasn’t so sure.
McGaven craned his neck and took a moment before answering, “I think so…”
“You spoke to Mr. Rydesdale,” she said.
“I did. He was difficult to understand because he seemed so excited to talk to us, but at least he was willing to talk.”
Katie exhaled loudly. “Well, let’s keep going. You can’t see anything in between all these trees.”
The sedan inched forward, squeezing by several more trees, and then it opened to a beautiful valley. A dozen acres of expertly landscaped garden with rows of vegetables, flowers, and patches of meadow greeted them. A large yellow 1920s farmhouse with white trim sat to the north end of the property, and several trucks were parked in front.
“Wow,” she said, looking around. Finding a place to park, she sat for a moment admiring the area.
“Wow is right. I’ve never seen anything like this except—maybe in a movie.”
Katie and McGaven got out of the car and continued to marvel at the area.
“Hi,” came a voice behind them. A woman in her forties with auburn hair and a large floppy green hat greeted them. She was dressed in dark jeans and a lightweight long-sleeved blouse. “Are you the detectives?” she said.
“Hi,” said Katie. “Yes, I’m Detective Scott and this is Deputy McGaven.”
“Pleased to meet you both,” she said. “I’m Sandy, Elmer’s daughter. Elmer will meet you on the porch. In the meantime, you can enjoy a glass of sweet tea.”
“That would be lovely,” said Katie, glancing at McGaven. They obediently followed the woman along the carefully manicured path to the house.
“Take a seat and he’ll be with you shortly,” she said and disappeared into the house.
Katie raised her eyebrows and then took a seat.
McGaven walked to the railing. “It’s really beautiful here. Makes me want to buy some land.”
“I could see you as a farmer,” Katie joked.
“No, really. I would love having land around here somewhere. My own land.”
The screen door opened and an older man in his seventies stepped out carrying a tray with three glasses of sweet tea. He was thin, tanned, and moved like a much younger man. “Hello, Detectives.”
“Mr. Rydesdale?” asked Katie.
“Please, you can call me Elmer,” he said and offered Katie and McGaven each a glass. “After I heard about that woman’s body found at Elm Hill, I figured it was only a matter of time before the police came around here.”
“You worked there when it was a foster home?”
“Yes,” he said, taking a sip of tea. “About four years.” His excitement showing as he began to talk faster again.
“Why? May I ask? You have such a wonderful place here.”
“Well,” he began, “we were going through some rough times and our farm wasn’t producing enough for the market. I took the job temporarily to make ends meet.”
Katie understood and nodded. “Did you enjoy it?”
“Not particularly. Don’t get me wrong, I was thankful for the opportunity. But, it was always a problem.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, there was a lot of drama with those girls.”
“Can you be more specific?” said Katie, taking another sip of the tea, which was delicious.
“They were always arguing, yelling, and plenty of door-slamming. Seemed like I was always fixing a door, replacing a window, sweeping up broken dishes and such.”
“I see. Did you happen to hear what the arguments were all about?”
“I tried to stay clear most of the time, but the best I could conclude would be the girls thought they were being treated unfairly, too much discipline, I’d imagine.” He took a seat in one of the wicker chairs with bright yellow cushions. His face had many lines from being outdoors in the sun for so many years, but most of them were from smiling and laughing.
“Did you witness any of these disciplines?”
“Can’t say I did. A lot happened behind closed doors.”
“Did you ever see men coming to the house?”
“Just police officers occasionally. My day usually ended by 6 p.m., so I couldn’t tell you if anyone visited after that.”
“Did you know any of the girls? One you spoke to the most?”
“I spoke with Candace, she was a lovely girl. She was polite and always asked how I was doing. The others were just in passing, with the exception of maybe that quiet skinny one… what was her name…”
“Tanis?”
“Yes, that was the one. She would bring me bottles of water on the hot days and sometimes sodas. Nice girl,” he said remembering. “I spent most of my time outside tending to the flowers and lawn areas, which, I understand, have all gone away since the house has been abandoned.” He looked down sadly. “It’s a shame that they couldn’t find someone who wanted to remodel the house and bring it back to its glory.”
“I agree,” said Katie. “I never saw it when it was all together, but it must’ve been stunning.”
“Yes… yes it was…”
“I won’t take up much more of your time, Elmer. We’re trying to get a picture of what was going on at the house. One more question…”
“Of course,” he said.
“In your four years there, was there ever an incident, something you saw or heard, that would make you think that someone would want to do harm to any of the girls?”
“You mean someone that would want to hurt or kill them?” he said, taking a moment. “Detective, I can’t say I know what motivates people to violence, but I didn’t see or hear anything that would push someone to that extreme.”
“Thank you, Mr. Rydesdale… Elmer,” she said, correcting herself. “I appreciate your time and this fantastic tea.” Katie was disappointed. She wasn’t sure what he would be able to tell her. Noticing his scar on the back of his left hand and how he couldn’t use it well, she wondered if he’d had an accident at his farm or at Elm Hill. She asked, “Do you remember anyone else regularly coming to the house? Workers? Friends? Anyone? Emergency first-respo
nders for anything?”
Elmer thought about it a moment. “I had two laborers that helped with tree trimming and all in the spring and fall. They seemed to be interested in the girls, but I suspect it was because they were interested in all pretty girls.”
“Did either of the workers take a special interest in any of the girls in particular? Especially Candace? We know a man named Ray helped her escape, does that name ring any bells?” she asked.
“No, I don’t think so. I forget their names, but they normally worked in other areas at the county—I think sanitation and maintenance.”
McGaven made notes and finished his iced tea.
Standing up, Katie said, “Thank you, Elmer. I think that’s all I need right now. If you happen to think of anything else, please don’t hesitate to call us.” She handed him a business card.
Katie and McGaven were quiet as she carefully maneuvered the police sedan back down the tight driveway. Driving slowly, Katie thought about the conversation with Elmer. It didn’t bring about anything new, but it did confirm what they had been hearing with the fighting and the discontent at Elm Hill.
“What do you think?” McGaven asked.
“I think I want another glass of that iced tea,” she said half smiling.
“I know,” he said.
“You feeling okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. Why?”
“Just asking.”
“If I’m getting tired or not feeling well, I’ll let you know. You don’t have to keep asking me.”
“Okay.”
Once Katie hit the main road, she sped away as fast as she dared on the way to Bella Vista to visit Margaret Adler. She might have more information, having been on the inside of Elm Hill.
“I think we need to speak to Mrs. McDonald again,” said Katie. “We need to press her more.”
“I agree. I’ll call the prison and set up a time tomorrow.” He called the number and left a message with his and Katie’s name, department, and name of prisoner he wanted to talk to. “I hate that,” he said after ending the call. “They’ll have to call me back.”
Katie felt frustrated: she wanted answers and wasn’t getting any. “I spoke with Ms. Wolf, the tutor, and she won’t be any help. She didn’t see or talk to anyone except Mrs. McDonald and two of the girls who needed math tutoring during her three-week employment. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary and she definitely didn’t see any kind of abuse.”
“End of that road with her then,” he said. “We’ll just keep digging.”
Returning to the main area of town, she took a right that led to a business development. There was a big sign: Bella Vista, Premiere Assisted Living. She pulled into the parking lot. The area was a landscaper’s dream with every kind of blooming flower and varied shades of greenery. It was a two-story building that stretched along the lot with patios and breezeways in between. There were a few people enjoying the weather sitting on benches and in chairs. It was quite cheerful.
“Okay,” said Katie. “Let’s go see what Mrs. Adler has to say.”
Katie and McGaven walked up the meandering white cement pathway to the front doors. Once inside, it was set up like a spacious living room. There wasn’t a front desk, but an office to the left. An older dark-haired woman sat at a desk working on the computer. There were no signs of where to go—just numbers on doors and at hallways.
“Hello?” said Katie catching the woman’s attention.
“Yes?” she said.
“I called earlier about speaking with Mrs. Margaret Adler.”
“Oh, yes, of course. Detective Scott, right?”
“Yes, and this is Deputy McGaven.” Katie smiled.
“Oh my,” she said, looking up at McGaven. “You’re probably the tallest police officer I’ve ever seen.”
“I think he’s the tallest I’ve seen too,” Katie chimed in, having a bit of fun at McGaven’s expense.
“Okay,” the woman said. “Margaret is out on the porch reading. Just follow through the main area until you see the sliding doors.”
“How will we know Margaret?” Katie asked.
“Oh,” the woman said and giggled. “You’ll know. Have a nice visit.”
Katie looked at McGaven and shrugged. “Okay.” They continued through the large living room where people were playing cards, working on puzzles, and a few reading books in the corner.
They came to the sliding doors which opened onto a large deck area where there were maple trees and low blooming bushes. Two men were chatting, and two women reading paperback novels.
“What do you think?” asked Katie.
“I don’t know. Just ask, I suppose.”
Both were feeling conspicuous, but no one paid them any attention.
Katie walked up to a woman fitting Margaret Adler’s build and what she thought she would look like. “Excuse me,” she said. “Are you Margaret Adler?”
The woman politely shook her head no.
“You looking for me?” said a voice behind her. A robust woman with fire-red hair, clearly dyed, and a colorful floral top, had appeared, riding a scooter. “I’m Margaret Adler. Judging by your suit, not to mention your gun and badge, you must be Detective Scott.”
“Yes,” said Katie. “Yes, I am. And this is—”
“Deputy McGaven,” Adler finished her sentence and smiled up at him.
McGaven nodded his head in introduction.
“Can we talk?” said Katie.
“Of course. Follow me,” she instructed and took off at full speed to another area of the patio.
Katie and McGaven almost had to jog to keep up with the woman—each feeling their bruises as they hurried.
Mrs. Adler settled in a nice spot between some of the landscaping and where there were two Adirondack chairs for Katie and McGaven.
Taking a seat, Katie jumped right in and began asking questions about Elm Hill. “Mrs. Adler, how long were you employed at Elm Hill?”
“Four years, three weeks, and sixteen days.”
“Okay,” said Katie and she lightly laughed. “I guess I’m just going to come right out and ask.”
“Please do. I have no secrets.” She waited patiently for the questions.
“Did you like your job there?”
“Sometimes. The girls were nice, just misunderstood and defensive because of their situations. But mostly, many days were filled with hassles and long hours. The county wouldn’t pay for overtime unless it was over forty hours during the week. So that made for some long days.”
“I see. Did you witness anything unusual?”
“C’mon, Detective. Just spit it out. This isn’t a court of law, you know—just a couple of gals talking.” She smiled broadly, showing her perfect false teeth.
“Okay. Was there anything going on at Elm Hill that had to do with abuse?”
“From what I saw, yes.”
“Can you elaborate?”
“I witnessed on several occasion Shelly McDonald using physical force on the girls—especially the quiet one… Tanis. She would slap her, punch her in the stomach, and I heard her beating her with something—I assume some type of switch or stick.”
That made Katie sad and mad that the woman used violence on the girls. “Did you report this to the police or social worker?”
“I would tell them everything I had seen when I was asked—I didn’t offer. Just wanted to keep my nose clean and keep my job.”
“Were there any men visiting Elm Hill—especially at night?”
“Interesting you should ask that… Normally I would say no, except for the police officers being called. Well, it was the muscular one. Can’t remember his name—I never spoke to him but just once.” She stopped and studied Katie and McGaven. It was unclear why, but she continued, “On one of the late nights I was finishing stocking the fridge with pre-made meals, when I saw two men accompanied by Shelly go upstairs. They parked their car outside, but I never saw them leave. When I left, the car was gone. That’s all I know.”
“Well, I don’t know if it makes a difference or not. Or if it’s important or not, but it’s bothered me to this day.”
“Go ahead.”
“I used to hear crying, a woman crying. At first I thought it was a ghost because I could never find out who it was. I would search, but never found her. Until one day. That’s when I saw it. The wall was partially open… and there was a secret staircase. It suddenly made sense to me about all the crying and other strange things… I would see one of the girls or someone visiting… and then I wouldn’t. There was a secret passageway that no one would admit to. Seemed strange to me.”
Katie was surprised that she knew about it. “Did you tell anyone about this secret staircase?”
“No, but I did make mention of it to Candace once. She just laughed and said that all old houses had their weird secrets.”
“Anything else?” asked Katie.
“I was never an eyewitness to anything except what I told you… but I knew in my gut and common sense I carry, there was something bad going on and those girls were the victims. I hoped that the county would do something about it but, as it turned out, they just closed the house.”
“Think she was telling the truth?” McGaven asked as they made their way back to the car.
“Definitely. It really doesn’t push the cases forward, but again, it confirms what we already know, which means we’re on the right track.”
McGaven’s cell phone rang. “McGaven,” he said. “Yes. When? I see.” He slowly ended the call.
“What’s up?” Katie knew something was terribly wrong. “Gav?”
“That was the prison. Shelly McDonald committed suicide two hours ago.”
Thirty-Four
Monday 1400 hours
Katie was still reeling over the news. “Gav, what have you been able to find out about McDonald’s death?”
“There was nothing suspicious and she hadn’t been suicidal at all during her incarceration, but she took her life when she was on kitchen duty. Apparently, she sliced her carotid artery. I’m still waiting for any final information.”