by Jeff Siebold
“They do a decent business here,” said Kimmy, looking around. The restaurant was a third full, even though it was early afternoon, too late for the lunch crowd.
Zeke nodded absently. “I don’t think Monica Burns’ murder would withstand much scrutiny,” he said. “Particularly in light of the murders of the two kids. There’s quite a bit in common.”
“Right,” said Kimmy. “Monica’s death was first, so they didn’t have a pattern to look for. But with the more recent shootings, you’re right. We should rethink it all.”
The waitress brought their drinks, coffee with cream for Zeke and organic green tea for Kimmy. The restaurant smelled like cooked onions and peppers blended with fresh garlic and grilled brisket. Zeke ordered a hot corned beef sandwich and Kimmy asked for kippered salmon.
As they waited for their food, they discussed Monica Burns.
“Featherman didn’t seem to have much to say about Monica Burns’ death,” said Kimmy.
“He wants to look at it again himself in light of the kids’ murders. I don’t think he’s interested in sharing what he’s thinking or what he’s finding.”
“Mostly patterns, though, right?” asked Kimmy.
“Couple of things,” said Zeke. “Monica Burns was killed a year ago. That means that the killer, or killers, I favor the plural, either live nearby or visit this area frequently. They’re probably from this general area.”
“Makes sense.”
“And the weapon might have been the same. I’ll bet Featherman is running that down right now,” said Zeke.
“Yes...” said Kimmy. “You mentioned that he said small caliber, smaller than a 9mm.”
“So it may all be a part of something bigger than the individual killings, right?” Zeke asked.
Kimmy looked Bohemian in her colorful floor-length tie-died skirt and Birkenstock open-toed sandals. Zeke smiled to himself about the dichotomy. Though she looked and often acted like an ethereal hippy, Kimmy was one of the deadliest people Zeke had met. In her years with the Israeli Mossad she had been a member of Kidon, the ‘Tip of the Spear.’ She could fight and kill with the best.
“How do we find out?” asked Kimmy, shifting in her chair and fiddling with her teacup.
“We should keep doing what we’re doing. Talk to the people involved and look for common denominators between the victims. Let’s circle back and talk with Chet Burns before Featherman gets to him.”
“We don’t know a lot about what really happened to Monica Burns,” said Kimmy, “or why.”
“And that’s part of it. Along with interviewing the rest of the people on our list, the ones who knew the dead kids.”
* * *
Susie Lopper’s funeral took place at St. Colman’s, the Catholic Church just off the Main Line in downtown Ardmore. Zeke parked down the street, and he and Kimmy slipped in the back of the sanctuary as the service was starting. It was an open coffin funeral.
There were about a hundred people sitting in the pews and listening to the elderly priest as he conducted the service. He said some kind words, some words of encouragement and healing, and then he turned it over to the family for their memories and comments.
Kimmy wore a simple dress and the most practical shoes Zeke had ever seen her wear. Zeke was in a dress shirt and khakis under a light sport jacket. There’s the lilac again, he thought, smelling Kimmy’s cologne.
George and Carol Lopper were the first to speak, although mostly it was Carol with George standing next to her, leaning on a cane and breathing heavily. Father Holmes stood next to George, as if to catch him should he fall. Carol spoke for a minute before losing control and sobbing through some more. She finally gave up and retreated to her seat in the front pew.
Oscar rolled his wheelchair up next to the podium and recounted a story in which he and Susie had shared some special moments. His handkerchief was wet by the time he finished.
Then, one by one, many in the audience stood and shared their thoughts or memories about the dead girl. All felt that she was gone too soon, and many thanked God for the time they’d had with Susie. Afterward, the family gathered in the narthex and hugged those who attended. It was an emotional scene for everyone.
Zeke watched the reception line carefully. He recognized many who had come. The McCarthys were there, as were Mrs. Manicotti and Tiffany Gordon. He saw Maryann Samone and Gina.
“Hello, stranger,” said a woman’s voice from behind him. Zeke turned to see Catrin Davies standing directly behind him, watching what he was watching. “Is there something suspicious?” she teased.
“Hello, Catrin,” said Zeke. “How’ve you been?”
“I’m good, except for this nasty affair,” she said, waving her hand as if to include the interior of the church. “It’s a real crime.”
“No doubt,” said Zeke. “Let’s go outside.”
As they started for the door, she said, “Last time I saw you, you were looking for Susie, right? I assume that you found her...”
“I did,” said Zeke. “I was able to find her through Seth Gordon. She had been staying with his sisters.”
They walked out of the church and onto the sidewalk. Then she stepped to a maroon Mercedes Benz parked at the curb.
“With his sisters. Oh ho,” said Catrin. Her voice was playful and her eyes sparkled for a moment.
“I’m not sure what happened after that, but Susie and Will Burns are dead and Carrie McCarthy and Seth Rogers are heading west,” Zeke said.
“Heading west?” Catrin looked concerned.
“They left town by car with Seth driving. We’re trying to find them,” said Zeke.
“Could you let me know if you do?” she asked. “I worry about my students.”
* * *
“Who was that?” asked Kimmy when she joined Zeke on the sidewalk.
“A teacher from Brecknock,” said Zeke. “I interviewed her when I was looking for Susie the first time I was up here.”
“She’s attractive,” said Kimmy. “I saw her approach you, and I thought I’d give you two some space.”
“Nothing there,” said Zeke, “but she is attractive. She seems to have enough money. What with the expensive car and designer clothing. It’s almost professional looking, the way her makeup balances her face and accentuates her eyes while deemphasizing her forehead and chin.”
“You were paying attention,” said Kimmy. “It takes money to get that right.”
“She said she inherited from her parents,” said Zeke. “Money and a house.”
“I don’t doubt it,” said Kimmy. “Did you learn anything?”
“No, I think she just saw me as she was leaving. Said to let her know if we find Seth and Carrie.”
“Were they in her class?” asked Kimmy, curious.
“No, Carrie was too young,” said Zeke, thinking back to his original interview with Catrin Davies. “She teaches High School English. But she knew that Carrie was dating Seth Gordon.”
“Was Seth in her class, then?” asked Kimmy.
“I don’t know that,” said Zeke. “She was Will Burns’ counselor, but I don’t know about Seth.”
Chapter 29
“May I buy this?” asked Zeke. He’d jumped off the motorsailer West Wind as it was tying up at the fuel pumps and had run down the pier toward the parking lot. Now he was standing just inside the dock master’s store, where he had wrestled a Coke from a cooler full of sodas and ice.
The store clerk smiled at the eight-year-old boy, and reached out to take the coins he’d set on the counter. “Sure,” he said. “Let’s see what we have here.” He started to count the coins when suddenly a loud explosion roared and the front windows of the tiny store broke outward onto the dock.
“Damn,” said the clerk, looking out at the fireball roaring upward a couple hundred yards away. He stepped around the counter and outside, then reached and threw a switch on the side of the building. Zeke followed him out the door and saw the sign above it that read, “Emergency Fuel
Shut-Off.”
The boy turned back, and at the fueling dock where the West Wind had been moored he saw the hull of the ship, burning with bright flames amongst heavy diesel smoke that billowed from below deck. The West Wind was no more.
“Don’t look at it, boy,” said the clerk, as he picked up the telephone and dialed the local fire department.
Zeke was stunned. He couldn’t begin to fathom the scene unfolding before him. His mom and dad were on that boat! His dad was fueling it when it exploded! Where were they? Were they alright? He couldn’t look away.
The volunteer firemen arrived quickly, some on a pumper truck, and many in their own vehicles with dome lights flashing on the vehicle’s roof. They organized, and four men dragged a long hose from the pumper truck down the pier to the fueling dock, which was now charred and burning. It took several hours to put out the blaze that was being fueled by the diesel fumes and the wooden skeleton of the West Wind.
* * *
“That’s horrible,” said Tracy Johnson. “I can’t even imagine...”
“It was horrible,” said Zeke. They were sitting at a picnic bench in a small park in Midtown Atlanta, sharing grilled vegetables in a spinach wrap and a half carafe of a delightful California chardonnay. “And it changed the course of my life.”
“No doubt,” said Tracy. “How were you able to deal with all of that? You were so young!”
“I didn’t have many options,” said Zeke. “I was sort of adopted by the people who lived in the marina, our neighbors, I guess you’d call them. They made arrangements for me to go to public school, and they gave me a place to stay.”
“You didn’t have any other relatives?” she asked.
“I did, but they were distant relatives. They were glad to delegate my guardianship. And the people who took me in were kind hearted and loving,” said Zeke. “The Kinneys.”
Tracy took a small bite of her wrap and looked at Zeke with wide eyes.
“Their kids had grown up and moved out, so they had the time and money to help me. They’d been close to my mom and dad when they were alive. I sort of gravitated to them, but the entire marina had a hand in my upbringing.”
“What about Eddie?” Tracy asked, knowing the answer.
“Yeah, Eddie was a big influence on me. He taught me all about Judo, and about life,” said Zeke. “But you know a lot about him already.”
“I do,” said Tracy. “But it always makes you smile to talk about him.”
“It does,” said Zeke. “It sure does.”
“I’m glad you found time to visit,” said Tracy.
“I am, too,” said Zeke. “We determined that the kids from Ardmore aren’t in any danger right now, so I gave myself the weekend off. And somehow I ended up in Atlanta.”
“So glad you did,” said Tracy. “When do you have to leave?”
“I’ll fly back to Philly tomorrow,” he said. “We’re looking for motives in Susie Lopper’s murder, and there’s still a lot to do.”
* * *
“I’m sorry to have to ask you about this, Chet,” said Zeke. “I know you’re going through a lot.”
“Have you found out anything more about who killed Will?” Chet asked.
He looked numb, as if he weren’t aware that the world hadn’t stopped for everyone as it had for him.
“Working on that,” said Zeke. “We’re trying to put the pieces together. And we’re talking with the homicide squad. But in the meantime, we need to ask you about your wife’s death.”
Zeke and Chet were sitting on the living room couch in Chet’s house, and Kimmy faced them in a wingback chair across the coffee table. The inside of the house was in pretty bad shape, with what smelled like dirty clothing heaped on the furniture in several random piles. The slipcover on the couch was stained, marked by spilled food. Some sort of marinara sauce, Zeke thought. That’s a new stain.
“Why?” said Chet. “How will that help?”
“I’m not sure, Chet,” Zeke said. “Sometimes we have to follow the trail to see where it goes. But let’s say there’s a reasonable possibility that there could be a connection.”
“Oh, God,” said Chet.
“Tell us what happened to her,” said Zeke.
“I don’t want to think about that,” said Chet. “I just don’t.”
“Where was she found?” asked Zeke, gently.
“In our bedroom,” said Chet. He was tearing up, wiping his eyes. He wouldn’t look at Zeke or Kimmy.
“The police said it was a home invasion.” Zeke said, to keep the conversation moving forward.
“Yeah, they said it was a robbery. That she,” he hesitated a moment, then decided to use her proper name, “that Monica walked in on the robbery.”
“What was taken?” asked Zeke.
“Well, they took some loose cash we kept in the kitchen drawer. It was a couple hundred dollars. And some of Monica’s jewelry. They think she walked in on the robber when he was getting the jewelry. She kept it on her dresser.” He stopped and sobbed.
“What else?” asked Zeke. “Was that it?”
“No, I had a gun that I kept in the closet,” Chet said. “On the top shelf, where Trina wouldn’t find it by accident.”
“What type of gun?”
“It was a Glock,” he said. “A nine millimeter. It was hidden in the back, behind some blankets.”
He’s telling the truth so far, thought Zeke.
The room smelled like stale laundry and pizza, and there were random cups and glasses sitting on the surface of the wooden coffee table. No coasters were in sight, and there were dried water rings all over the surface of the wood. Chet was wearing jeans and white socks and a light pull-over sports jersey. His hair was messy, as if he’d just rolled out of bed.
“Who do you think was responsible?” Zeke asked.
“How would I know?” asked Chet. “It was a burglary, so the burglar shot her.” He looked at Zeke as if the question was ridiculous.
“Any idea about the motive?” asked Zeke, to see Chet Burns’ reaction.
“What? Motive? It was a burglary,” said Chet. “Right? She was shot when she walked in on it. I don’t know. It had to be random,” said Chet.
“Why do you say that?”
“Well, they broke in to steal stuff, and Monica came home at the wrong time,” he said. “It’s as simple as that.”
“OK,” said Zeke to pacify Chet. “What else happened? What do you remember about that day?”
“I got a call at my office from the police. Will had come home from school and found his mom. Then the school bus dropped Trina off. She was really broken up that day, crying and screaming.”
“Were the police able to identify the suspects? Did they get close?” asked Zeke.
“No. They never did.”
“Were there any other burglaries in the neighborhood? Around the time of your break in?”
“I don’t know. I’d lost my wife, so I wasn’t functioning very well,” said Chet.
“Do you remember anyone talking about robberies before that?” asked Zeke.
“No,” said Chet.
“So do you mind telling me what happened that day, after you got the phone call from the police?”
“Not much. There were cops everywhere for a long time, for hours. They took Trina to the hospital in an EMS truck, and I followed in my car. Will had left to stay with a friend. There wasn’t anything for me to do at the house. I was sort of in their way, wherever I went.”
“In the cops way?”
“Yeah.”
“Any phone calls?”
“Yeah, I called Monica’s parents and her sister in Pittsburgh from the hospital. Those were tough calls,” said Chet, remembering. He shook his head.
“Any incoming calls?” asked Zeke.
“No, I don’t remember any.”
“Tell me how the day went.”
“OK.” Chet composed his thoughts. “I got the call at the office that afternoon. I drove home rig
ht away. The police questioned me about the robbery and about my wife for a couple hours while the crime scene techs were here. They wanted to know about her habits, her patterns, and where she’d been that day. It was a Tuesday.”
“OK,” said Zeke, nodding and giving Chet good eye contact.
“And they wanted to know if we were having problems, you know, fighting and stuff.”
“Were you?” Zeke asked.
“No, nothing like that,” said Chet with a dismissive hand gesture.
“Then what?”
“Then Trina was having trouble, crying and all, and the cops asked the EMS guys to take her to the hospital, get her out of the house and sedated so she could relax. She was eleven then.
“OK, what else?” asked Zeke.
“Ah, man,” said Chet, holding his eyes with his right hand. He breathed deeply for a moment.
“Take your time,” said Zeke. “I know this is hard.”
“Yeah, then I called her family, like I said.”
“Un-huh.”
“And then, uh, after a while the doctor said I could take Trina home. I thought it would be better if she didn’t go back to the house, though, so I took her to stay with Maryann Samone down in Ardmore for a couple of days. Trina knew Gina from school, and they had become friends. I think Gina had tutored her that year.”
“What did you do?” asked Zeke.
“Me? I dropped her off and stayed for an hour or so. By then Trina had fallen asleep from the drugs the doctor gave her, and so I excused myself and went home. There was still crime scene tape around a part of the house. So I went to Dollar General and bought some toiletries. Then I checked into a hotel and went to sleep.”
“Were you able to sleep?” asked Zeke.
“I stopped at a bar on my way to the hotel, had a couple drinks, and took some sleeping pills,” said Chet. “I don’t remember much after that.”
Chapter 30
“Was he telling the truth?” asked Kimmy.