by Jane Tesh
“I never saw you as Velma.”
“I do not need protecting. I’m not this helpless little girl. I’m not—” she stopped and then said, “I’m not Lindsey.”
I couldn’t say anything. My emotions ran back and forth as erratically as the neighbor’s lights, which were now dashing up and down the yard to—ironically—“What Child Is This?”
What child is this. Kary wasn’t a child. She wasn’t my child. Was I trying to make her into Lindsey? Was that what I’d been doing? Was I still trying to atone?
Kary put her hand on my shoulder. “You’re trying to keep everyone safe. I understand that. But you have to understand that for the first seventeen years of my life, I was so sheltered, I could barely exist in the real world. I had to get away from all that, and now that I have, I don’t ever want to go back.”
This wasn’t the time for me to explain that my idea of protection was not the same as her fundamentally Christian family’s idea.
“You have to see that sometimes I can’t help but interpret your concern differently. Sometimes I feel smothered.”
“I definitely don’t want that. No smothering.”
“I’m glad to research things for you, but if I’m going to be on your team, I want to take a more active part in your investigations.”
“Okay.”
“I mean it.”
“I promise. If there’s something else you can do, I’ll tell you.”
“You’d better,” she said, “or I’ll find something else on my own.” She kissed my cheek. “Good night.”
She went back inside. I stood on the porch until the music cycled back to “God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen.” For a few moments, the lights blurred. I wiped my eyes. I knew in my heart Lindsey had forgiven me, but I never wanted to lose anyone ever again. Hanging onto Kary too tightly would only drive her away. I had to let go.
***
When I came in, Mom and Kary had already gone to bed, and Camden was in the kitchen. I took a beer out of the fridge.
“I’ve just been told, in no uncertain terms, that I’d better start treating Kary like the Daphne she is, not the Velma.”
Camden tugged his tie loose. “I believe you are speaking Scooby?”
“Yes. Guess that makes me the dog.” I sat down at the counter. “I ran into Alycia this evening. Literally.”
“She was here?”
“Leaving another love note. I chased her down and managed to get her to talk to me. She’s sure the police are after her, and she’s afraid Jared’s killer is after her, too.”
“Does she have any idea who that is?”
“I don’t think so. I might have learned more, but Jordan drove up and she ran away. He didn’t see her, and I didn’t tell him.”
“Find out anything at the auto club?”
“All the guys at the auto club liked Jared. Said he only got mad when the break-in was mentioned. He couldn’t have been making much at his job. He was going to sell his beautiful old car. Maybe the idea of knocking over a few stores was appealing. Maybe he got in touch with some of his criminal pals, and when he had second thoughts about the deal, one of them killed him.”
“Or maybe a criminal pal got in touch with him.”
I took a drink. “Here’s an idea. What if Alycia’s the criminal pal? She came by Jared’s workplace looking for him. She told Jared he was chicken. I think she was planning something he didn’t want anything to do with. She told me she was all about adventure. She was Spontaneous Girl and he was Caution Boy. Maybe the museum break in was her idea of fun, and Jared was the only one who got caught.”
“Then wouldn’t he have been angry with her? And if he refused to go along with her next plan, would that be any kind of motive to kill him? And I know she didn’t.”
“That’s where my idea hits a snag.” I took a bag of chips from the cabinet. “‘Valley of Gwangi’ is on tonight, if you need an antidote to ‘The Nutcracker.’”
Camden tossed his empty Coke can into the recycle box by the back door. “It was all right. I like the music, and your mother really enjoyed it.”
“I’ve got to think of something for her to do tomorrow. Any suggestions?”
“Oh, she and Kary already have something planned. There’s a cooking demonstration at the shopping center and some sort of fashion show. They’ve been talking a lot. It’s good for Kary to have someone like Sophia to confide in.”
Since Mom had already delved into Ellin’s love life, I could only imagine what sort of advice she gave Kary, or if Kary even mentioned our relationship.
“Anything I should be concerned about?”
“They’ve mainly been talking about Kary’s teaching career and children.”
Well, of course Kary would be talking about children. Damn.
We took our seats in the island and turned on the TV. “The Valley of Gwangi” is one of our favorite movies, and we’d gotten to the part where a cowboy wrestles a pterodactyl when Brooke came in. She was surprised to see us.
“Are you two still up?”
“You’re still up,” I said. She looked flushed, her hair in tangles, and her clothes askew. “Did you get lucky, or was there a bear party down the street?”
She tried to straighten herself. “It’s gotten windy out. Well, good night.”
As she hurried up the stairs, Camden and I exchanged a look.
“Windy?” he said.
“As in a lot of hot air. Wonder what she’s been up to? A midnight assignation with the Avenger?”
“Guess we’ll read all about it in tomorrow’s Herald.”
Chapter Thirteen
“The Crooked Straight
and the Rough Places Plain”
We read all about it, all right. The front page was alive with news about a third break-in in the old Parkland shopping district. Trilby’s Antiques, two doors down from Carlene’s shop, reported the theft of a valuable collection of coins and jewelry, as well as a set of china, three Civil War era knives, and a Faberge egg. The thief or thieves had entered through a trap door in the ceiling.
I’d gotten ambitious and cooked bacon and eggs this morning. “I’ll bet this was a secret trap door known only to the Evil Avenger and his minions.”
Camden had chosen his usual brown-sugar Pop-Tarts and Coke. He dragged himself over to the toaster, looking heavy-eyed. “‘Minions.’ Five points.”
I brought my plate to the counter where we’d spread out the newspaper and sat down on a stool. “Speaking of minions, why aren’t you getting anything on the Avenger? Planning to become his sidekick? The Parkland Avenger and the Psychic Kid?”
“I don’t know.”
Unfortunately, when it comes to his own future, Camden doesn’t see much. “You must be planning to run into him soon. Give Brooke Verner my regards.”
The editorial page of the paper was filled with letters to the editor, half of them decrying the Avenger’s antics, the other half pleading with the Avenger to stop the crime wave. The editorial was about Parkland’s downtown district and how these thieves were destroying our priceless heritage.
I crunched into a piece of bacon. “Looks like everyone at the Herald is bucking for a Parkie.”
Camden rubbed his eyes and yawned. “Was the Avenger out and about last night?”
“Not unless he was robbing the antique store. Want to go check Brooke’s room?”
“Not unless you want to give her the wrong idea. She’s still asleep.”
I forked up more egg. “Exhausted from protecting the city, and speaking of exhausted, you don’t look too chipper, yourself.”
The Pop-Tarts popped up, and he put them on a plate. “Nightmares.”
“Let me guess: bloody nightmares.”
He pushed his hair out of his eyes. “Deep,
dark bloody nightmares. I could hardly breathe.”
“Ellin needs to sleep with you every night.”
“I’d love to have her sleep with me every night.”
“Well, tell her, you dope. When’s the last time she was over? Last week, was it? You got her a new little nightie for Christmas, but Christmas is five days away. You’re not going to last. Tell her you’re dying.”
Mom bustled in, already dressed and looking ready to take on the day. By now, I was almost used to her new hairdo and jewelry, but the leopard print poncho over black leggings made me rock back a little. “Good morning, boys. What’s for breakfast? David, that smells delicious. Cam, what on earth is that? Are you drinking Coca-Cola? No wonder you don’t sleep at night.”
“I’m sorry, Sophia,” he said. “Did I wake you?”
“I’m a very light sleeper, dear. I heard you rolling around up there.”
Camden glanced at me and grinned wryly. We both knew that took care of the Ellin sleepover. “Sometimes I have nightmares. It’s nothing, really.”
She patted his hand. “Does this have to do with the tomato sauce incident the other day?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“Davey, what are you doing about this?”
“I’m trying to solve the mystery, Mom, but it looks like I’ve got another robbery to investigate, too.” I showed her the newspaper.
“Trilby’s Antiques. That’s down by the jewelry store, isn’t it? This thief must like the neighborhood.”
I took a drink of coffee. “That’s what I’m hoping to find out.”
Kary came in, looking angelic, as usual, in her pink pajamas and white robe. “Good morning, everyone. Do I smell bacon?”
I put my coffee cup aside. “I can have your order up in a few minutes, ma’am.”
She sat down at the counter. “Thanks.”
“How would you like your eggs?”
“Scrambled, please.”
“Two over easy for me, Davey.” Mom sat down beside Kary. “I thought we might go by the cemetery today.”
Even after all this time, it still feels like someone kicks me in the stomach. The car accident that had taken Lindsey can replay in my mind as if it just happened. “No, thanks, Mom.”
“I found a lovely little arrangement at the crafts show.”
“I’m really busy today.”
There was a moment of uncomfortable silence. Then Kary said, “I’ll be glad to go with you, Sophia. My Beth is buried in the same children’s area. I have the nicest wreath with little angels. When would you like to go?”
I kept my eyes on the frying pan, knowing Mom was watching my face, but she spoke calmly to Kary.
“Any time that’s convenient for you, dear.”
I put Kary’s eggs on a plate and added two strips of bacon. When I handed her the plate, I wanted to say thanks, but couldn’t talk around the lump in my throat. She smiled her beautiful sympathetic smile. I couldn’t have asked for a better Christmas present. I cleared my throat.
“Two over easy coming up.”
***
It took me a while, but I got my emotions all settled and locked back up before heading out to the courthouse. I’ve used the resources of the county courthouse before. They provide a wealth of information, as long as you’re polite to the clerks, which isn’t a problem. The clerks like to think they’re in charge when actually most of the info is available to the general public. I like to deal with Dixie Sonoma. She’s a big brunette woman with a good sense of humor, and she likes to flirt. Today, she had on a bright red Christmas sweater decorated with ornaments, a green skirt, and a big pin shaped like a candy cane.
“What is it today, David?”
“Two things.”
“Only two?”
“One may be a challenge.”
“Let’s start with the easy one.”
“Please check your files for Jared Hunter. He broke into the history museum about a year ago.”
Dixie’s fat little fingers flew over her computer keyboard. It took her about five minutes to locate Jared’s record.
“Here we go.”
I read the brief report. It was approximately what Jordan had told me. At one o’clock am on July 10, Jared Hunter of ten sixty-five Willow Avenue was apprehended by Parkland police, who answered an alarm at the Parkland Museum of History. Another suspect fled the scene. Hunter was unarmed. Felony charges were dropped at the request of Ralph Galvin, head of the museum board.
If Ralph’s son Bert was part of this crime or prank or whatever it was, why didn’t Jared say so? If Alycia Ward had something to do with it, why did Jared protect her, as well?
I must have been deep in thought because Dixie nudged me. “What’s your hard question?”
“I need a map or schematic drawing of the old Parkland district.”
“That’s easy, but we’ll need to take a little trip.”
The Parkland courthouse was built in the Thirties and someone decided elevators wouldn’t work within the existing structure, so there are lots of stairs. I followed Dixie up two flights to an office marked “Historical Records.” I expected to find a dusty gnome hunched behind a battered desk, but the office was bright and modern, with sleek furnishings and a light green carpet.
“What are you looking for?” Dixie asked.
“I’m looking for a map of the old Parkland district, specifically old drawings of Royalle’s Fine Jewelry and Moore’s Hardware.”
The room was filled with filing cabinets and cabinets with long flat drawers. Dixie went to one of these and pulled out several drawers until she found the one she wanted.
“This is all I have.”
Under sheets of protective plastic were photographs and pencil drawings of Main Street, Parkland, as it appeared over the years. They were mostly copies of ones I’d seen in the museum. “No blueprints? Nothing that would show how the buildings were constructed?”
“No. We used to have something like that, but it crumbled before we could restore it. It was on a piece of brown paper, very old and creased. The last time I saw it, I was going to show it to an electrician who was going to rewire one of the shops. He wanted to make sure he didn’t overlook anything or leave anything that might cause a fire. When I took it out, it disintegrated.” She closed the drawer. “Have you tried the library? They might have a copy. Or the history museum?”
“The library’s my next stop,” I said. “Thanks for your help.”
***
On my way to the library, I stopped by Trilby’s Antiques.
No one at Trilby’s Antiques wanted to talk to me. The owner was furious with the police and anyone else who looked like a detective for failing to protect his store.
“This is ridiculous!” He stood in his doorway as if daring me to come a step further. “Doesn’t anyone see a pattern here? Are we all going to be robbed before something’s done? First Royalle’s, and then the music store—why weren’t there extra patrols on this street? Do I have to sit in my store every night with a shotgun?”
“Did your alarm system fail?”
“How was I to know there’s a trap door in the ceiling? How did the thief know about it? Coming in that way, he didn’t trip the alarm.”
“How long have you been at this location?”
“Ten years. Ten years without a minute of trouble, and now this. Clear out! I don’t want to talk to anyone.”
He slammed the door, setting the police tape trembling in the breeze. I thought about waiting until he had calmed down and trying to speak to him again. Instead, I called Kary.
“Can you meet me at the library?”
“I was just about to call you. I’m on my way.”
She didn’t mention anything about the visit to the cemetery, and I defi
nitely didn’t ask.
***
As I drove to the Parkland Public Library, I thought over my information. By now, I was pretty sure Jared Hunter and Bert Galvin had been looking for and had possibly stolen a map that showed secret entrances to most of the old buildings on Main Street. Why they needed this, and who was working with them remained mysteries, but someone had hidden a map of some kind in his comic books.
Kary met me in the reference section. “They don’t have the original map, but they have a copy, and Mandy is making me one.”
In a few minutes, the reference librarian brought us four pieces of paper which she arranged like the pieces of a puzzle. “We don’t have paper big enough, so I did each section. It goes together like this.”
We taped the edges, and I had my very own key to downtown Parkland, or at least the part I was interested in. There was Royalle’s Fine Jewelry, alarm system and all, Moore’s Hardware, now Carlene’s record store, including the secret panel, and the store that now housed Trilby’s Antiques, complete with trap door. On the map, the antique store had originally been Hagerty’s Feed and Grain. There were tunnels, passageways, hidden doors, and a maze of underground rooms. A burglar’s paradise.
“Mandy, do you have any idea why there are all these odd doors and passageways?”
Why did I ask? Of course she knew, and if I’d thought about it, I’d have known, too. “During the Civil War, Parkland was a major stop along the Underground Railroad.”
“That’s right. I saw something about that in the museum. So these were hiding places.”
“Yes, and if there was trouble in one place, you could sneak along the tunnel to another place and get out.”
And I bet someone was using these tunnels to rob the stores and get out. “Has anyone else asked you about this map?”
“A police officer came by and looked at it. I told him what I told you.”
“No one else?”
“No. Most people don’t know about all the things we have here in the library.”
That was true. I should have come here first, and poor Jared Hunter could’ve saved himself a lot of trouble and probably his life if he’d only come to the library.