by Jane Tesh
Kary and I thanked her and took our copy of the map to another table to examine it closer.
I pointed to Royalle’s, Carlene’s record store, and Trilby’s Antiques. “These three stores have been robbed. I think somebody else has a map like this, a map that shows all the neat secret rooms.”
“They’d have to know their history, wouldn’t they?”
“Yes, they would.”
“So what was Jared doing with a map like this?”
“My guess is he was using it to steal things. He’d already been caught breaking into the history museum.”
“If I were a thief, a history museum wouldn’t be my first choice.”
“Mine, either. Unless he really wanted this map. Or someone wanted it, and Jared got sucked into the scheme.”
Kary went to the shelves to look. I sat down and stared at the map. Come on, give me a clue. Give me something to go on here. If the thief or thieves were hoping for a big score, why take only a few items from each shop? Royalle’s was loaded with expensive jewelry, and the antique shop had tons of rare and valuable things.
“This might help.” Kary put a large book entitled Parkland: City of Promise on the table. “There’s quite a lot about Parkland during the Civil War.”
I started to read when my cell phone beeped.
It was Tamara Eldridge. “First of all, don’t panic. It’s not as bad as last time, but he’s still shaky. He said you were at the library, so I hope I haven’t interrupted anything important.”
“Just a little research. I’ll be right there.” I closed my phone. “Camden’s had another little spell. See if we can take this book with us.”
Mandy apologized and said Parkland: City of Promise had to stay in the library.
“You go take care of Cam,” Kary said. “I’ll see what I can find out from this book.”
Chapter Fourteen
“And the Rulers Counsel Together”
Camden met me at the door of Tamara’s Boutique. “I’m okay. It was just a little tremor, not a full earthquake.”
“Any blood?”
“More like I couldn’t breathe. It’s okay now.”
He looked pretty white. Behind his back, Tamara made all kinds of signals, shaking her head and indicating it was not okay. I thought some overly sweetened food might help.
“Let’s go get some lunch. Tamara, can we bring you anything?”
“If you go up to Chunky Chicken, you can bring me the regular garden salad and some tea, thanks. Take your time.”
“Feel like walking?” I asked Camden.
“I’m all right.”
Chunky Chicken’s across the shopping center. We walked to the restaurant, ordered a salad for Tamara, sandwiches for us, and tea all around. Camden picked up a double handful of sugar packets. I flipped some straws out of the dispenser.
“I found some details at the courthouse of that crime Jared wouldn’t discuss with you. It was indeed the museum robbery.”
“To get the map.”
“Yes. You remember the curator said the robbers made a big mess? I think they were covering their tracks. I think they specifically wanted the map, and if they crushed a lot of paper, the folks at the museum would assume the map was destroyed. They swept up the remains and didn’t try to put all those pieces back together.”
“Good grief.” He ran his hand through his hair. “I wish he had confided in me.”
“This morning you said you couldn’t breathe. What’s going on?”
“It felt like I was choking, but at the same time, it felt good, if that makes any sense.”
“Not really.”
“It was very strange. More like a feeling of accomplishment.”
“Oh, so you were happy you were able to choke.”
He shook his head. “It’s two separate things. I don’t know how to explain it.”
“You’re getting two messages at once, maybe.”
“But from the same source, whatever that is.”
“Someone who’s choking and enjoying it.”
Our order was ready. The girl handed over the bags and seemed relieved to wait on the next customer.
As we walked back to Tamara’s, I said, “No blood this time?”
“It’s still there, but kind of in the background. The choking thing is more important now.”
“More important?”
“That’s what it feels like. Do any of these visions make sense? Ever?”
“Don’t get worked up. We always manage to figure them out.”
“I don’t want to choke.”
“Who does? We’ll deliver the salad, eat our delicious Chunky Chicken specials, and then I need to get back to the library.”
This made him grin. “Tamara didn’t believe me when I told her that’s where you were.”
“I now have a copy of the burglar’s map, and I should be able to thwart his next move. I’ve also found a scholarly tome that may reveal All.”
“‘Thwart’ and ‘tome.’ Go to the head of the class.”
“See what going to the library does for me?”
Tamara thanked us for the salad and insisted Camden go home.
“I can handle things,” she said. “You go have lunch and relax.”
I was surprised he didn’t argue with her. We went to the Fury and spread our lunch out on the front seat. Camden often remarks there’s enough room for a seven-course meal in my car.
I unwrapped my sandwich. “You want to go by the PSN and tell Ellin you’re dying?”
“No, I’m okay. I need a little time to sort things out.” He gazed off into space for a few minutes. “If I’m experiencing the killer’s thoughts, then I must be connected to him or her in some way.”
“Who do you know that’s that vicious? I mean, you know a lot of screwy people, but this is extreme.”
“I didn’t know Jared until a short while ago. Maybe this is someone else from my past.” His eyes got large, and I knew what was coming.
“Camden, don’t even think it.”
Too late. “Oh, my God,” he said. “What if it’s my father?”
“Your father is not a mass murderer.”
“How do you know? We don’t know anything about him except his name is Martin and he looks like me. What if I’m experiencing his thoughts?”
“Why would your father kill Jared?”
“Do murderers have to have reasons?”
“Most of the time they do.”
“Unless they’re crazy.”
“Okay, so now your father is an insane mass murderer.”
“Well, he probably is. Anybody who’d leave his wife and newborn child has serious issues.”
“Get a grip. I’ll solve this, okay? And you’ll see that the killer is some creep who happens to be able to broadcast a little louder than usual.”
I ate my sandwich. Camden took a few bites of his and set it aside.
“You’re not going to brood in my car,” I said, “or I’ll dump you off at the PSN and let Ellin harangue you.”
That got his attention. “‘Harangue’? Can you even spell that?”
“I’m three words ahead of you now.”
Kary called to ask about Camden and to say she’d gotten some good information from Parkland: City of Promise and was on her way home.
“We are, too,” I said. “See you there.”
***
Kary got home first and was waiting for us in the dining room where she’d spread the map on the table. Mom was also there, looking on with interest.
“There was a long section in that book on the Underground Railroad, featuring names and pictures of prominent Parkland citizens who’d taken part,” Kary told us. “Under one picture, I foun
d the name ‘Ward.’ According to local history, the Wards started out as sharecroppers, but eventually became one of the wealthier black families in town.”
“Are they still wealthy?”
“The book didn’t say.”
“Camden?”
He shook his head. “Alycia never had a lot of money.”
Kary had more. “I asked Mandy if she remembered someone named Alycia Ward. She did remember a very tall woman who was doing a report for college and needed some information about the Underground Railroad.”
I knew it. “Did she ask about the map of old downtown?”
“No, she didn’t.”
Maybe she didn’t need to. Maybe she already had her own copy, the copy Jared Hunter stole from the courthouse.
“Okay, maybe Alycia wants to be rich again, like in the good old days, and using her knowledge of the Underground Railroad hideaways, she’s masterminding the thefts.”
“I need a closer look at this map,” Camden said.
We gathered around the table and bent over the map. Mom sat down and pointed to a section. “Is this Royalle’s?”
“Yes, and I can’t wait to show old Mister Carlton Royalle there really is a tunnel under his store,” I said. “But it doesn’t connect to any other tunnel. Royalle’s is on one side of the street. Carlene’s shop and Trilby’s Antiques are on the other. If I were the thief, where would I go next?”
Camden ran his hand lightly along the paper. “This tunnel goes under Carlene’s and several shops.”
“Yeah, but does the thief need shoes, tropical fish, or his Avenger suit dry-cleaned? And why hasn’t he hit the most obvious target, the Parkland First National Bank on the corner?”
“The tunnel doesn’t go that far.”
“And judging from what’s been stolen, this thief didn’t seem too concerned about making the big haul.” I straightened. “Are we dealing with a very selective thief, or has he been surprised each night by the Avenger, as Sim Johnson suggested?”
“I’m not getting anything.”
“This is a copy of a copy Mandy made for us. You probably need to feel the real map.”
“You think Alycia has it?”
“I think Jared and his cohort broke into the museum to steal the map, which is crazy, because they could’ve gotten a copy from the library just as I did. I think Jared had it hidden away in his comics, and someone who knew this wanted it bad enough to kill him. It’s possible Jared knew about this map through Alycia’s research.”
“What about Bert Galvin?” Kary asked. “Maybe he knew about the map.”
“It was never clear if Bert was there, and Jared didn’t talk.” I carefully folded the map. “I need to find Bert. And here’s another thing. I still wonder if these current break-ins are some sort of publicity stunt cooked up by Brooke Verner to win a Parkie. No one’s been hurt, the stores weren’t badly damaged, and lots of valuable stuff’s been left behind.”
“You think Brooke has Jared’s copy of the map?”
“I’ll ask her.”
***
I went to the Herald and found Brooke in the least likely place: Chance Baseford’s office. He was in full rave.
“Does it mean that much to you, you stupid woman? Here, take it.” He shoved one of the Parkie statuettes into her hands. “Take it!”
Brooke almost dropped the Parkie. “I’m not doing this for an award. I want respect. I want to be treated like a real reporter.”
“Then report on something real.”
“The Avenger’s really out there!”
“Oh, he’s out there, all right.”
She slammed the award on his desk. “Listen to me! No matter what you think, there’s a real Avenger.”
“A copycat, like a serial killer.”
“No! A real hero!”
“Oh, give it up, Verner. You’ve cried wolf so many times, you’ve got your own pack. This fellow’s a nut, exactly like yourself, and if anyone gets hurt, you and your stupid scheme will be held accountable.” He noticed me in the doorway. “You might as well come in, Randall. I need a witness that I awarded Brooke Verner a Parkie for the most ridiculous story of the year.”
“Congratulations, Brooke.”
Her glare was almost a full-force Ellin Belton glare. “You don’t know anything about this, Randall.”
“As much as it pains me to agree with Baseford, I think this scheme of yours is heading for disaster.”
“It isn’t a scheme! I’m reporting the facts!”
“Okay, what are the facts?”
She paced Baseford’s office, gesturing wildly. “The Avenger has foiled three break-ins in the historic downtown section of Parkland. Royalle’s Fine Jewelry is missing only a handful of items, the music store lost a little money, and Trilby’s Antiques could’ve been wiped out. With alarms disarmed or bypassed, why did the thief or thieves stop? Because someone stopped them, and that someone was the Parkland Avenger.”
Since Brooke’s line of reasoning sounded very much like my own, I hesitated. Baseford asked the burning question.
“Why the Avenger? Why not some citizen out for a midnight jog, or a police car coming around the corner? Do you have to invent some exotic excuse for a thief’s behavior? Proof, woman, that’s what you need. Maybe Ralph Galvin is letting you get away with this, but I never want to see you in my office again.”
Brooke was shaking with indignation. “I’ll show you, you overgrown oaf. My exposé is going to blow the roof off this town.”
“With clichés like that, I should imagine it would.” He waved her out. “Shoo, shoo.”
Brooke stormed past me without another glance. I followed her all the way to the other end of the building to her office. It wasn’t as large or as cluttered as Baseford’s, but she had her own desk, computer, and file cabinets. Tacked on one wall was a city map decorated with colored pushpins, no doubt indicating Avenger sightings. Brooke flopped into her chair and gave me another glare.
“What do you want, Randall?”
“Oddly enough, our theories coincide.”
“Oh, so now you’re a believer? You couldn’t say so in front of Baseford? Give me a little backup?”
“I don’t think there’s an Avenger, but you’re right about the thief being selective. I’m curious, too, why he’s taking only a few things.”
“Maybe he’s re-decorating his town house.”
I pulled out the folding chair in front of her desk and sat down. “Level with me, Brooke. Who’s this Avenger, and what kind of deal have the two of you cooked up?”
“There’s one way you can find out.”
“Okay. Your place or mine?”
She sat back, looking disappointed. “I don’t want that to be the only reason you sleep with me.”
“Well, it would be.”
She folded her arms and looked at me for a long moment before giving me a reluctant grin. “Damn you.”
“Anything for a story.”
“This isn’t a story. There really is an Avenger.”
“Yeah, sure. Are you using a map of Old Parkland’s Underground Railroad to help him plan his daring moves?”
“The only map I’ve got is the one on the wall. What the hell does the Underground Railroad have to do with anything? People aren’t fleeing to the North these days.”
The latest Herald was spread out on her desk. Besides a headline on the antique store break-in, there was one stating, “Woman Attacked in Park.” I read the details. A jogger had surprised a man trying to choke an unidentified woman. An unidentified black woman. The man had run off, and the woman disappeared. Police had no leads, no suspects. The crime had happened around midnight.
Brooke frowned at me. “What’s your interest in that? You think the Avenger did
that, too?”
“What time was Trilby’s robbed?”
She checked her wall map. “The police aren’t sure. The call came in after midnight.”
I folded the paper and put it back on her desk. Could the unidentified black woman be Alycia Ward? Had Camden somehow intercepted her feelings and the feelings of her assailant? “If I were the Parkland Avenger, I’d be trying to save people from being killed instead of hanging around antique stores.”
Brooke leaned forward again. “Parkland’s a big city. If we work together, we could cover twice as much territory.”
“No, thanks. I don’t have any more room in my trophy case.”
“I’m not doing this just for a Parkie.”
“No, there’s that ten thousand dollar reward to consider.”
“And not for that, either. My journalistic reputation is at stake.”
I got up. “If you say so.”
“I’ll show you, Randall. I’ll show all of you.”
“You don’t have to show me anything. I want to find out who killed Jared Hunter. If it turns out to be the Avenger, then hooray. If not, he can go on saving the city.” I took another look at her map. For some reason, something one of the women in Hair’s Looking At You said came to mind. I’d mentioned that the Avenger got in the way, and she’d said, “Not all the time.”
“Brooke, when did the Avenger start avenging?”
She consulted her notes. “December 8.”
“Is that when he got in the way of the police car?”
She looked again. “That’s when he fell off the roof of the parking garage onto someone’s car and dented the hood. December 15 is when he got in the way of the police car.”
The night Royalle’s was robbed. “You’ve still got copies of your stories, right?”
She went to her computer and opened her files. “Here.”
I came around so I could see the screen. I’d already read the December 15 account about the Avenger’s attempt to block the bank robbers’ getaway car. “When was the next one?”
“December 18. He was spotted in the downtown district.”
Carlene’s shop was broken into on the 18th. “Witnesses reported a man in yellow tights and a red cape Thursday night in the vicinity of Old Parkland. The alleged ‘Parkland Avenger’ was seen as he leaped from a Dumpster in the alley to the top of the Mains Building.” “Leaped,” I said. “Sounds pretty agile. Did you see him do this?”