Murder Blog Mysteries Boxed Collection

by Pamela Frost Dennis

“It would be nice if there was money in the school budget for security cameras,” said Chief Arnold.

  Angela laughed. “It’d be nice if there was money in the budget for art classes, or driver’s education, or—”

  He held up his hands in submission. “I hear you.”

  “Chief, we’ve talked to practically every kid in this town,” Angela continued in a composed tone she didn’t feel. “Every frat house, sorority, dorm, the high school. No one has given us anything concrete we can go on.”

  The chief got up from the sofa and stretched his long legs. “And her friends? Still nothing there?”

  “Actually, there has been some further enlightenment as to why we have not been able to get a straight answer from those two.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I can give you the abbreviated version or you can listen to my last interview with Jenny Farrell.” Angela pointed at the small tape recorder she’d placed on the coffee table when she first entered the office.

  “I want to hear it.” He sat down and unbuttoned his jacket and loosened his tie.

  Angela pressed the play button and her recorded voice filled the office.

  “All right Jenny, let’s go back to the beginning.”

  “You mean, when we picked up Lindsay at her house or when we went for pizza?”

  “When you went for pizza.”

  “Okay.” An audible sigh was heard and then Jenny spoke. “We went to the pizza place, next to the movie theatre, and after we got in line, Mallory said she had to go to the bathroom and told me to come with her. Lindsay held our place in line. In the bathroom, Mallory took a joint out of her purse and told me it would make the food taste way better.”

  Jenny’s father interrupted. “Are you kidding? I hope for your sake, you said no.”

  Angela hit pause. “I thought I was going to lose her right then and there, but she was determined to tell her story.” She pressed play again.

  “Dad, it’s not like it can really hurt you... right? So I decided to try it. I only took a few puffs. It really burned, and I didn’t like it, and I swear I’ll never do it again. But I didn’t tell Lindsay because I knew she wouldn’t approve.”

  Her father said, “That’s because she’s got more brains than you.”

  “Let’s continue,” said Angela.

  “There was some cute boys in line, and they invited us to a party. Mallory wanted to go, but me and Lindsay didn’t. Mallory said it would be cool and told me I was acting like a baby. I didn’t want the boys to think I was a kid, so I said okay.”

  Angela stopped the recording and said, “At this point, she broke down. Since she said nothing coherent, I’ll fast-forward.”

  Angela pressed fast-forward and let it spin to the spot she was seeking. She pressed play.

  “How did you get to the party?” asked Angela.

  “You already know that from the last time we talked.”

  “Tell me again.”

  “We walked, but I don’t remember what way we went. I was really nervous about going to the party and about smoking the joint. I was trying to act normal so Lindsay wouldn’t know, but I felt super dizzy and my chest really hurt. When we got there, there were tons of people there, and I felt stupid ‘cause they were all way older than us. A nice boy showed us where to get drinks and food and then I had to go pee. When I was in the bathroom, Mallory knocked on the door, and I let her in. I had a real bad headache and felt kind of sick, and she said she had some medicine that would get rid of it, so I took it.”

  “What?” shouted Jenny’s father. “She hands you a pill, and you just take it, without asking what it was?”

  “I thought it was headache medicine, like Tylenol. She said it would make me feel better.”

  “What was it?” asked Angela.

  Jenny’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Ecstasy.”

  “Turn that thing off,” demanded Farrell.

  “Please, Mr. Farrell. Lindsay’s missing out there somewhere,” said Angela. “We need to know everything that happened that night.”

  “Do we need a lawyer present? Jenny just admitted to using illegal drugs, for God’s sake.”

  “Please, Daddy.” Jenny was sobbing. “I know I screwed up big-time.”

  “How do you know it was ecstasy?” asked Angela.

  “She told me.”

  “When did she tell you?”

  “Right after I swallowed it. She thought it was funny. I got really scared then.”

  “I swear I am going to kill that girl!” screamed her father. “Feel free to arrest her, for all I care.”

  Angela said quietly. “Jenny, what happened next?”

  “I got scared, and I didn’t want Lindsay to know, so I didn’t go back to her. After a while my stomach felt weird and rumbly, but then I started feeling really good. Like really, super happy. I felt totally awesome.”

  “That’s it. I’m going in the other room,” snapped Farrell. “I can’t listen to any more of this crap.”

  “Daddy, I am so sorry. I didn’t know.”

  “Well, Jenny, that’s not exactly true, is it? You knew you smoked pot. And you knew you took ecstasy.” His voice faded as he left the room. “And you knew all of this from the beginning but chose not to tell anyone until now.”

  “I’m sorry!” she screamed.

  “Too little, too late!” he yelled from the next room. “This is going to kill your mother.”

  “God, I really screwed up,” Jenny said. “My parents will never forgive me.”

  Angela waited for Jenny to compose herself. “Tell me what happened next, Jenny.”

  “I’m not really sure. I was dancing and having fun. Then I kinda remember feeling super cold, and my jaw clenched up, and my headache came back really bad. I don’t even remember going home.” There was a pause. “I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you this before. I was really scared. Will I have to go to juvie?”

  Angela turned off the machine.

  “Well, shit,” said the chief. “This just gets better and better, doesn’t it?”

  Chapter Thirty

  DEAD GIRLS DON’T BLOG

  1996

  Tuesday, May 21

  ~part one~

  Erik’s death was ruled accidental and for the first time in over two weeks, Phil slept through the night at his parents’ house and woke with a ravenous appetite. He found his mom in the kitchen nursing a cup of coffee at the kitchen table and reading the newspaper.

  “Morning, Mom.”

  Penny glanced up from the paper. “Well, good morning to you too, sleepyhead.”

  Phil poured himself a cup of coffee. “I thought I’d make some breakfast. Want some?”

  “Breakfast sounds great.”

  Penny pulled the newspaper closer. “Still no leads on Lindsay Moore’s disappearance,” she read aloud. She looked up from the paper. “The TV Show, Unsolved Mysteries, wants to do a segment.”

  “You’re kidding. Here in Santa Lucia?” Phil’s hand started shaking and he carefully set his mug on the counter with two hands.

  “That show’s had a lot of success solving crimes and we can use all the help we can get. Lindsay could be anywhere by now. Maybe brainwashed in some cult like the Moonies, for all we know. But a nationally televised show might actually help to jog someone’s memory. I’m sure everyone on the central coast would be watching.” She sipped her coffee. “The sad reality is, in all likelihood she’s lying dead somewhere out there and her mother will never know what happened to her.”

  Penny saw the stunned look on Phil’s face. She knew Erik’s death weighed heavily on him and talking about Lindsay had stirred that up again.

  “Honey, I’m sorry. I realize how terribly hard these last few days have been. Losing your friend so suddenly.” She shook her head, biting her lower lip. “I can’t even begin to imagine what Erik’s folks are going through. But you’ve got to realize there was nothing you could have done.” She got up and hugged him. “And I know this girl’s att
ack and disappearance has affected you, too. You can’t help it. You’re a caring person.” She pulled away and looked into Phil’s eyes, smiling gently. “At least Erik’s parents will have closure.”

  Phil could not meet his mother’s eyes. I thought it would stop with Erik’s death, but it isn’t. And her mother needs to know.

  In his bedroom, Phil picked up his flip-phone and pressed Jake’s speed-dial number. After a few rings, it went to voicemail. Relieved he didn’t have to speak directly to Jake, who surely would have tried to talk him out of it, he said, “Jake, it’s Phil. Listen, man, I’m really sorry about this, but I’m going to tell my parents. I can’t live a lie anymore. I’m so sorry.” He shut his phone and laid his head on the desk.

  “Phil?”

  He lifted his head and saw his mother standing in the doorway, holding a stack of folded towels.

  “What was that all about?” she quietly asked.

  “What do you mean?” He didn’t want to tell her like this.

  “I heard you say you’re going to tell us something. That you can’t live a lie anymore.” She entered the room and sat on his bed, still clutching the towels.

  “Please call Dad to come home. I need to talk to both of you.”

  “Phil, you’re scaring me.” Penny’s eyes welled up with tears. “What is it?”

  Penny and Adam sat with Phil at the kitchen table, waiting for him to tell them the dreadful thing that was bothering him. Phil was still uncertain. If he did this, everything would change forever. Then he remembered that Unsolved Mysteries wanted to do a segment about Lindsay. Sooner or later, he was going to get caught. In the end, it would be better for everyone if he turned himself in now.

  His mother said, “Phil, whatever it is, we’ll get through it.”

  “Your mother’s right. You’re a young man with your whole life ahead of you. Just tell us what’s wrong and we’ll deal with it.” Adam took a breath, exhaled, and forced himself to ask the words no parent ever wants to ask. “Phil, did you get a girl pregnant?”

  Penny groaned. “Oh, my God. Is that it? You got someone pregnant?”

  Phil smacked the table in frustration. “No one is pregnant.”

  They waited for Phil to continue and he forced the life-altering words out, “I know where Lindsay Moore is.”

  “How do you know? Who told you?” Penny shoved her chair back and stood up. “We have to call Angela and get that girl home.”

  Adam watched Phil’s reactions. “Penny, stop. Sit down.” He spoke slowly. “Phil, how do you know where Lindsay is?”

  Phil swallowed hard, fighting the bile crawling up his esophagus. “Because I put her there.”

  “What do you mean?” his father said softly. “Are you saying you’re hiding her?”

  Penny clutched at Phil’s arm. “Why would you be hiding her? Why?”

  He pulled his arm from her grasp and put his trembling hands in his lap. “May I have a glass of water, please?”

  Adam went to the sink, poured a tall glass of water, and placed it in front of him. Phil took a shaky sip.

  His father sat down. “Why don’t you start at the beginning.”

  Phil told them every sordid, damning detail. He told the story straightforward with no attempt to sugarcoat his participation in the crimes. Throughout the long narrative, his parents remained silent, except for his mother’s suppressed sobs and hiccups. Tears rolled down Adam’s face unchecked, his face was flushed and a vein twitched on his forehead as he stared at his son. The only thing Phil held back was Jake suffocating Erik.

  Phil had not seen his father cry since he had been a child and was in the ER, suffering an asthma attack. When he finished speaking, he waited for their response. They were stunned, speechless.

  “Please say something,” Phil said.

  After a time, his mother spoke. “Why, Phil? For the love of God, why?” her voice choked. “Why would you tell us something like this? It can’t be true. It just can’t be.”

  Adam rose from the table and went to the sink. “I don’t even know you.” He poured a glass of water and brought it to Penny.

  “You didn’t mean to do it,” cried his mother. “It was a terrible accident. You’re not a bad boy.” Her voice cracked and she wiped her streaming eyes with a paper napkin. “It’s not your fault. You’re a good boy.” She pounded the table with clenched fists, screaming, “You’re a good boy. You’ve always been a good boy.”

  Adam crouched by her chair and held her until the storm passed. Phil had never seen his father show such deep love for her. He knew he had broken their hearts.

  Adam straightened and stated in a dead, defeated tone, “We’ll need a lawyer. I’ll make some calls, and then you’ll have to turn yourself in.”

  “Wait!” Penny grabbed his hand. “Why does he have to turn himself in? What good will it do? It won’t bring Lindsay back, and you know he didn’t mean to do it. Look at your son, Adam! He’s already suffering.”

  “Phil has to do the right thing. He knows it; that’s why he told us.” Adam turned to leave the room.

  Penny stood up and clutched his arm. “Please. Please don’t call.”

  He took her sagging body in his arms and spoke gently. “I’m not calling the police, Penny. I’m calling the lawyer. Do you want to lie down?”

  “No. I want to stay with Phil. He needs me.”

  Her pathetic voice ripped Phil’s heart. Was it worth it? Was this truly going to help anyone?

  Adam left the kitchen to call the family attorney. In the home office, he closed the door, sat at the desk, and stared sadly at a framed family photo taken last Christmas. After several minutes, he opened the address book and looked up Dave Holloway’s number. He was an estate attorney, but unless you were a member of the mob, what ordinary middle-class family had a criminal lawyer? Over the years, Dave had taken care of the Hobart’s estate planning and had become a trusted friend and golf buddy.

  After a short, difficult conversation, Dave suggested a criminal attorney in his building. Adam asked if he would call for him.

  Holloway put Adam on hold while he rang Jeri Slater’s line and gave her a brief run-down, then came back on the line with Adam. “I gave her your number and she’ll call in the next few minutes. Phil will be in good hands, Adam.”

  At 1:10, Jeri Slater held open the Santa Lucia Police Headquarters main door and ushered the Hobart family in. She told the desk clerk that Angela Yaeger was expecting them. A few moments later she came out to greet them.

  Slater stepped forward. “Angela, I’m Phil’s attorney and will be representing him in this conversation.”

  “It’s nice to see you, Jeri,” said Angela with a frown, mystified as to why Phil needed an attorney. She noted Penny’s swollen, red-rimmed eyes and Adam’s stony demeanor. “Why don’t we go into one of the conference rooms where we won’t be disturbed.”

  In the room, the group clustered in a corner until Angela closed the door and told them to be seated at the long, rectangle table. A moment later, Officer Yee entered and took a seat.

  Angela activated the tape recorder sitting in the middle of the table. “Phil, I gather what you have to say is of a serious nature, so I will be recording our conversation. Is that all right?”

  He glanced at Slater for approval. She nodded and placed her own recorder on the table.

  “Yes, ma’am.

  Angela switched the recorder on and clasped her hands on the table. “I am Detective Angela Yaeger of the Santa Lucia Police Department. Today is Tuesday, May 21, 1996. The time is 1:27 p.m. I am speaking with Phillip Hobart. Phil, please state your full name, age, address, and today’s date.”

  Phil spoke softly, “Phillip Adam Hobart.”

  “Please speak louder,” Angela directed.

  “Phillip Adam Hobart.”

  Within the first sixty seconds of his narration, Angela realized he was confessing to Lindsay Moore’s rape and murder.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  DEAD
GIRLS DON’T BLOG

  FRIDAY • APRIL 19

  Posted by Katy McKenna

  I woke at dawn with Christy Hobart on my mind. It was too early to get up, so I tried various positions to fall back to sleep, but just as I’d start to float off, she’d drift into my thoughts and snap me awake again.

  Mrs. Watkins, the school secretary, had told me how Christy had been shunned by her friends, as though her brother’s crimes were her fault. Guilt by association. The poor kid had even tried to commit suicide. Somehow she’d survived that rough time and now was married and having a baby. That and an extreme need to pee got me out of bed. Daisy and Tabitha were not having sleep issues and took no notice of my exit.

  As soon as I had a few swallows of caffeine under my belt, I sat at the kitchen table and called Samantha. It was 5:55 a.m. She’d be up savoring some moments of quiet and a cup of tea before the pandemonium of getting the kids off to school commenced. She answered on the second ring.

  “You’re up early,” she said. “What gives?”

  “I woke up thinking about Christy. Did she have her baby?”

  “Not on my watch. She was at five centimeters when I left at five-thirty last night.”

  Knowing next to nothing about the birthing process, I asked, “How many centimeters do you need to deliver a baby?”

  “Ten. So she had a ways to go. These things can drag on and on, or they can suddenly shift into high gear and it’s baby time. That’s how I was with Casey. Went from three centimeters to ten in about thirty minutes. Hopefully by now she’s cuddling her little newbie.”

  “How was her mother when you left? Had she calmed down about the petition?”

  “Seething but keeping it under control. The doctor made it abundantly clear that if she wanted to remain with her daughter during labor, she was not to upset her.” I heard Sam sip her tea, so I did the same. “I went in to say goodbye to them before leaving, and Mrs. Hobart walked out into the hallway with me and asked if I knew who’d started the petition.”