by O. J. Lovaz
O.J. Lovaz
Silent Pretty Things
A Novel
Copyright © 2021 O.J. Lovaz
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-7374113-0-7
For my awesome wife, Sandra
And my amazing daughter, Gabriela
Contents
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER I
CHAPTER II
CHAPTER III
CHAPTER IV
CHAPTER V
CHAPTER VI
CHAPTER VII
CHAPTER VIII
CHAPTER IX
CHAPTER X
CHAPTER XI
CHAPTER XII
CHAPTER XIII
CHAPTER XIV
CHAPTER XV
CHAPTER XVI
CHAPTER XVII
CHAPTER XVIII
CHAPTER XIX
CHAPTER XX
CHAPTER XXI
CHAPTER XXII
PROLOGUE
Strange, very strange, thought Officer Gary Mitchell. A murder in these parts. In Blake County, of all places. Heck, this might be the most peaceful area in all of Pennsylvania. Bountiful nature, cute little towns and villages, cobblestone streets, coffee shops, bakeries, ice cream parlors, antiques, dainty useless specialty stores…and murder?
He lit a cigarette. Blustery tonight, not cold, but cooler than the last few nights. End of summer; end of life. Every day is the end of the world for someone out there.
Death always put him in a weird, contemplative mood.
Snap out of it, man. Let’s make that call.
Oh, he’s going to love it! Almost 1:00 a.m.—why these things always happen right smack in the middle of the night?
Anyhow, let’s see what Wozniak makes of this one.
CHAPTER I
A thunderous bang shocked Michael Donovan from his light doze. Heart thudding in his chest, he scanned the area and spotted a large brown tome, open face up on the floor. The darn thing must have been sloppily placed on its shelf. He picked it up—nineteenth-century courthouses, many of them still in use. He was fond of sharing such tidbits of information with anyone interested. Not many were these days.
The library of the Blake County Historical Society was otherwise utterly silent. There had been no visitors that day, or the day before, or the day before that. The small museum on the lower level occasionally still received visitors, but scarcely anyone ever made it up to the archives and library department.
Michael glanced at the clock on the wall: twenty minutes before closing time—finally! On his timeworn desk, a book he had been reading to pass the time, something about the unsung heroes of World War II, lobbied for his attention. He put it in the top drawer. In another instant, he would have turned off the lights, but he heard the distinctive sound of the door chime announcing that someone had come in.
He turned around to see a blond woman in her mid-twenties, very attractive, with green, catlike eyes, and a captivating aura of sophistication and grace.
The woman stood by the door with the weightless poise of a magical creature whose feet barely touched the ground. She wore a faint and apologetic smile. “I’m sorry to come in at such a late hour. I can see that you’re about to close for the day. I could come back tomorrow.” Her voice was soft and velvety, yet also rich and powerful.
Thrown into a daze, Michael barely recovered before it got awkward. “Oh no, it’s fine. It’s great to finally have a guest here today. I’m Michael Donovan, director of the archives and library.” He immediately hated the way he dropped his absurd, inflated title on her like that. “How may I be of assistance?” he added with a slight nod.
“You’re very kind, Michael. My name is Anna Goddard. My grandfather was Charles Goddard. He passed away about three years ago. You may have known him, as he was prominent in our town as a businessman and philanthropist.”
Name dropping within two minutes—must be a new record! Michael sounded the spoiled-rich-girl alert. “Charles Goddard, yes, I met him once at one of our galas years ago, though only briefly. I’m sorry to hear that he’s no longer with us. Your grandfather was a generous contributor to this institution.” He could vomit right now. How he had despised that conceited old man!
“Yes, thank you for your…thoughtful words. He did care a great deal about protecting our heritage. Actually, that is what brings me here. You see, I believe my grandfather donated a small collection of family photographs, deeming them of interest to local historians. I understand a few were from the inauguration ceremony of the St. Mary’s School in the 1960s and some from the school’s basketball championship in 1984.”
Anna stepped closer to him. “My father played on that championship team, and he has never stopped talking about it.” She smiled roguishly. “So, anyway, I would very much like to see some of those pictures, if you really have the time to help me find them. It’s just a matter of curiosity, really,” she added graciously, as if she felt the need to explain herself. Her charm was undeniable.
“It will be my pleasure. If you don’t mind my asking, is your father Rick Goddard, the football coach?” Michael had never really met the guy but had heard he was an arrogant jerk. Like father, like son.
“Actually, that’s my uncle. He doesn’t coach anymore, though. Haven’t seen him in a long while, not since he remarried and moved to California. My father is Victor Goddard. I can’t imagine that you’d know him.”
She paused briefly and seemed to inspect her new acquaintance, in the subtlest manner, as if collecting her thoughts. “He’s in the real estate business, just as my grandfather was, but he’s not as well known, gregarious, or interested in cultural and philanthropic endeavors.” Her tone held a slight hint of contempt for her father.
“I see. Well, why don’t we go ahead and look up those photos for you?”
“If it won’t take too long, of course. I don’t want to keep you hostage here—you probably have plans, somewhere you have to get to.”
“Nowhere I must get to in a hurry,” Michael said. “So time is on our side.”
“Is it ever?” She flashed a cute little smirk.
“What, time? No, I guess it never is. You’re right about that.” He couldn’t agree more.
He sat in front of a tarnished, clunky desktop computer, probably over ten years old, and started typing search queries. “A lot of these pictures have been digitized and kept in our online repository. Some of the older ones we haven’t got to yet, and we keep them in hard-copy collections or even in boxes in the backroom.”
Anna scanned her surroundings inquisitively. “So you’re the boss here then?”
“Boss? Well, I’d say I’m more like the sheriff of a ghost town. There’s nobody to order around here, not that I would want that anyway. Here, I found something.” He beckoned to her to come over and take a look.
Anna came around and stood behind him. Her movements were smooth and delicate. Was she being deliberately provocative? Nah, it was probably all in his head.
The computer slowed to a crawl, but Michael was in no hurry. “These pictures are from St. Mary’s inauguration ceremony in 1963. It says right here that they were donated by your grandfather. I take it that you went to St. Mary’s?”
“Yes, I did. There wasn’t much of a choice, with my grandfather being one of the school’s original board members. My father went there; so did my brother. If I didn’t want my kids to go to St. Mary’s, I’d probably have to get away from here.”
“Oh, you have kids?” Michael blurted out, feeling embarrassed before the words had even come out. He turned slowly toward Anna and faced her.
Her face took on a curious expression, like she was studying him. “No, no, I mean in the future, if and when I have kids of my own.�
�� She paused, the corners of her mouth beginning to curve slightly up. “I don’t even have a boyfriend.”
“Right, right…I’m sorry.” Michael promptly ended his intrusion trying hard not to blush, his heart racing in his chest, warm all over.
“It’s quite all right.”
Moving back to the task at hand, he sensed her close proximity behind him, leaning down over his shoulder so that he could see her delicate face and long neck out of the corner of his eye. A few golden strands of hair brushed on his shoulder and neck, and he could smell her perfume, with sweet notes of jasmine and vanilla—his mind drifted for a moment, intoxicated, feeling an irrepressible pull toward her.
“Here, could you open this one?” she asked, pointing to a thumbnail on the computer screen, rushing Michael back to his body.
He opened the low-quality picture. Five men and two women were standing in front of the St. Mary’s school building, with its original facade. Two of the people, Michael could recognize—Father Patrick Thompson, a young priest at the time, who had retired a few years back; and Robert Mason, the town’s mayor back then, who went on to become a representative in Congress.
Anna pointed to a tall, heavy built man in the middle of the lineup. He was wearing a gray suit and tie with a matching hat. “This here is my grandfather.”
Michael would have never recognized Charles Goddard in that photograph. He had met him as an old man, and time had certainly not been kind to him.
“I’m probably older now than your grandfather was in this picture.” He faced Anna and got lost in those stunning eyes of hers only inches away.
“Well, let’s see.” She sat up on the corner of his desk. “This was 1963, so he must have been, um,”—she thought about it for a moment, making a cute thinking face while she did the math—“about thirty years old. Yes, that’s about right. And how old are you?” She casually blurted out the question, then laughed, rolling her eyes. “That’s so inappropriate. You don’t have to answer that.”
“Oh, I don’t mind. I just turned thirty-three last week, actually.” Certainly not something he felt like celebrating. An empty, dimly lit station in transit to the next depressing milestone; sprinting to middle age while not having accomplished one damn thing he really cared about. Time only marches forward, his mother used to say—a precious gem meant as encouragement to seize the day that now seemed brutal and merciless.
“Well, happy birthday, then. You look younger. Like twenty-nine, I’d say. The thirties are the new twenties anyway, right?”
“Wouldn’t that make you a teenager?” Michael joked.
“But, Mr. Donovan, I haven’t even told you my age,” Anna teased.
“And I’m not going to ask, but you look young.”
“That’s kind of you, and so very gracious. But I’m not too young.”
“Too young for what?” Michael’s pulse revved with excitement.
“I just mean that I have lived, that I am not some naive, immature girl.”
“Fair enough.” He chuckled to mask his jitters. “I’m still not going to ask your age.”
“Well, I won’t tell you then. I’ll keep it a mystery for a little longer.”
“I love a good mystery.” Michael could high-five himself right now.
Anna squinted her eyes slightly and fixed them on him with a mischievous spark, then jumped off the desk, and turned her attention back to the computer screen. “It’s getting late. Let’s see if there’s anything else worth looking at here.”
Rushing things with women had not worked well for Michael before. No sense in risking coming on too strong.
He opened up a few more pictures from the school’s inauguration ceremony—they all showed the same people. None elicited a reaction from Anna.
What was she really after? Was this trip down memory lane solely curiosity as she said? She didn’t seem very curious anymore. Perhaps, these were not the pictures she had hoped to find. They were, admittedly, rather boring.
“Would you like to see more recent ones?” Michael asked. “Earlier, you mentioned St. Mary’s basketball championship in 1984; you know, the one your father won’t stop talking about? I bet those would be more interesting. Should we search for them?”
“Sounds like a good idea.” Anna glanced at the clock on the wall and stepped back around the desk. “But it’s already twenty minutes past closing time. I should go.”
“Oh, don’t worry about the time. It’s really no trouble.”
“Well, the thing is, I’m free tomorrow.” She ran a finger through the back edge of his desk. “So, how about I come back around eleven in the morning and we look at them then, if you’re not too busy?”
Ah, his luck hadn’t run out just yet. Au contraire, my dear comrade! The prospect of seeing her again was an unexpected treat.
Michael rose to his feet. “Yes, that will be perfect. I could look up those pictures before you come. With a bit of luck, we’ll find your dad doing a slam dunk or something.”
“Yes, wouldn’t that be something?”
“It would sure make a great gift for him.”
“Yes. Well, it’s a date, then. It’s been a pleasure meeting you.”
A date, she said. Michael struggled to restrain the wayward little muscles in his face which desperately wanted to broadcast his elation. “The pleasure has been all mine. Until tomorrow then.”
As Anna stepped out, she peeked back at Michael before she went downstairs toward the exit. Michael stayed a few minutes longer, daydreaming about tomorrow.
When he left the building, the sun was setting, and the clouds over the horizon were alight with hues of red, orange, and yellow, a spectacular sight that he might have ignored many times before, as one does when staring at the ground; but on this day, he had come out gazing up at the sky. Michael opened up his car’s convertible top, put on some classic rock, and drove away under a perfect summer night.
CHAPTER II
Anna Goddard headed to the wooden deck in the back with her cup of espresso and a blueberry muffin. No buildings obstructed her view to the east, so on clear mornings such as this she liked to sit there sipping her coffee, watch the sunrise, listen to the birds, spy on busy squirrels and chipmunks, breathe some fresh air and, on the best days, ponder essential questions.
She owed this Friday morning delight to some neighbor’s dog that had decided to bark as stridently as possible at six in the morning, the loathsome noise piercing through the shallow walls of her townhouse.
She loved her charming little home—it was cozy, modern, and kept her close to Misty Pines’ town center, restaurants, and shops. Location, location, location! Certainly not the mansion expected of Charles Goddard’s granddaughter, but it was hers, free and clear of her father. She grinned into the sun, comforted by that fact.
Unwelcome memories from last Sunday at her parents’ house intruded in her mind: the ominous text message that flashed on her father’s phone and her bizarre exchange with her mother afterward.
It all triggered in her such horrid suspicions—Anna chased the thoughts out of her head. She conjured up Michael’s image to keep her company.
She had enjoyed the little glances between them, the zesty little remarks, and, yes, brushing up against him just a little, just enough to raise his temperature.
Since she wouldn’t be meeting with him until 11:00 a.m., she had plenty of time on her hands to do some research. She went to get her tablet and came back outside.
One of the neighbors—a lady in her late forties, Anna reckoned—had come out to her own deck. She lit up a cigarette and stood by the railing, enjoying the view. She acknowledged Anna with a courteous smile, “Good morning.”
Anna responded in kind, then sat down and located the web address of the Blake County Historical Society. Now to find the staff directory.
The lady with the cigarette, however, seemed to be in the mood for a little small talk with her young neighbor. “I’ve always enjoyed this view. It’s so nice, don’
t you think?”
Anna glanced at her, “Yes, it really is.” The sun was rising majestically above a long band of mature trees, mostly red maples and oaks.
“I’ve seen you around, but I don’t think we’ve formally met. I’m Michelle”
“I’m Anna. Pleased to meet you.”
“The pleasure is all mine.” She took a big puff from her cigarette, observing Anna, and then exhaled the smoke in a perfectly steady flow. “One should always know their neighbors. Nowadays, we all seem to live in little bubbles, you know. Everyone is immersed in their own tiny worlds. People don’t even know whether the person next door is a Nobel Peace Prize winner or a hardened criminal.” She raised the cigarette back to her mouth but paused to ask, “How long have you lived here?”
“A little shy of a year. How about you?”
“Scott and I have lived here for over fifteen years. We raised our daughter here. Ashley is off to college now, all grown up.” A slight note of melancholy deepened her voice as she mentioned her daughter.
“Must be tough for the two of you.” Anna approached the rail and stood alongside Michelle.
“Even harder than I thought it would be, but I don’t show her that. Don’t want to rain on her parade. She’s so excited about college, and I’m mighty proud of her.” She took another big puff, suddenly pensive; then as she addressed Anna again, she exhaled the smoke through the right corner of her lips, pointing away from her. “She wants to be a doctor, and by God, she will do it. She has the best of me and her dad, and much more,” she said fondly.
“I like how you just lit up talking about her, with such pride, and love…” Anna choked up, but she couldn’t understand why, which mortified her.
Michelle seemed touched by her words. “You’re very sweet. I’m happy I met you this morning. I will have to come back out here more often. Maybe we can chat some more.”
“I’d like that.”
Her neighbor had finished smoking her cigarette; she put it out on a ceramic ashtray she had on a small round table and waved Anna goodbye.