Mind-Bending Murder

by Leslie Langtry

  The sheriff took off his hat and rubbed his head. "If that's true, then I guess it does. But the statement was made to Vanderzee in the Bladdersly PD."

  "Which means," I sniffed. "That Vanderzee is lying."

  He looked at me for a moment. "Between that statement and you saying Brown kidnapped Malone, those are some serious charges, Merry."

  I shrugged. "I suppose that Malone could've said he'd seen me."

  "And you were there," the sheriff said. "At the scene of the crime with the body."

  "But what if Malone didn't make a statement? What if Vanderzee made up the whole thing?"

  Sheriff Carnack looked away, staring into space for a long moment before replying. "I guess we have to wait to see what Pastor Malone says."

  "In the meantime…" I noticed a vending machine down the hall. I was hungry. I was always hungry. "You need to go check out Mordecai's house. That's where I found Malone."

  Carnack nodded. "I plan to do just that. And you'll need to give a statement."

  I fiddled in my fanny pack for money, trying to make sure I didn't inadvertently give the lawman sitting next to me a glimpse of my gun.

  "Are you saying you don't believe me? When have you ever known me to lie about something so serious?"

  Carnack held up his hands. "I do believe you, and I'll head out there soon. But we have to do things the right way. You need to put your statement on record."

  Nope. No money. I did have my driver's license, but no cash.

  "Fine. I'll come in in the morning. By the way, you don't happen to have any money on you I could borrow, do you? I want to hit the vending machines."

  The sheriff shook his head and reached for his wallet. He pulled out four one-dollar bills.

  "I'll pay you back," I swore as I got to my feet.

  The large man smiled. "Consider it a gift. You did good work tonight. Well, you did it the wrong way. You should've called us to take care of it."

  My eyes grew round. "I'm pretty sure he was about to be murdered. I didn't have time and, in fact, my cell was dead."

  "Okay," Sheriff Carnack said. "Thank you for saving Pastor Malone."

  A nurse appeared. "Sheriff, he's asleep. The poor man is suffering from shock and exhaustion. I'm afraid you'll have to wait awhile."

  I didn't like the sound of that.

  "Alright," he said. "Sounds like it might be a few hours. You know how to get hold of me. I'll have someone stand guard. Call me the moment he wakes up."

  "I'm staying," I said. I wasn't letting Pastor Buddy Malone out of my sight until he cleared me.

  The sheriff shrugged. "At least, for once, we will know exactly where you are." And with that, he walked away.

  After retrieving four Ding Dongs from the vending machine, I was just settling in on a bench outside the man's room, when Vanderzee blustered into the hallway.

  "What"—he pointed a stubby finger in my direction—"is she doing here?"

  I looked around. I was the only one there.

  "You must be talking to me," I said calmly, setting down my snacks. I picked up a magazine and began leafing through a four-year-old copy of Better Homes & Gardens magazine. "And I'm here because I rescued Pastor Malone from the real killer."

  His face turned bright red. "You rescued him from your own kidnapping! And now here you are, ready to pounce when he comes to so that he can't testify!"

  "I'm afraid I don't care for your tone," I said casually. "And you're wrong. I rescued him. And guess what? He had no idea who I was."

  The man turned an alarming shade of purple.

  "I want you out of here! I want you locked up! I—" he screamed.

  The nurse who'd spoken to us earlier reappeared. And she did not seem happy. "You need to stop shouting, or I'll have security escort you off the premises!"

  "You can't do that!" Vanderzee sputtered. "I'm the law!"

  "Not here you aren't." Rex appeared, and my heart skipped a beat. "This isn't your jurisdiction. It's mine. And I'd appreciate it if you didn't throw around baseless accusations. My wife has a pretty good lawyer…"

  "The best lawyer," I interrupted.

  "I'm not leaving until I throw your wife in prison!" Vanderzee howled.

  "That's it!" The nurse picked up a phone and made a call. "Security is on its way. I don't care if you are the President or the Pope. I'm the law in this hallway."

  Vanderzee stormed off, and my husband took a seat next to me.

  Rex looked at my Ding Dong pile. "Had quite a night, didn't you?"

  How did Rex know I was here? A little light bulb went off in my mind. "Carnack called you, didn't he?"

  He nodded. "Carnack called. I'm taking this shift. I thought you'd like to have someone to bounce your thoughts off of."

  It felt like a huge weight had been lifted. "Thanks. I was going to call you, but all of this happened so fast."

  Rex put his hand over mine. "You called the sheriff, which was the right thing to do. It's his jurisdiction. But I wish you'd told me where you were going. I could've come along."

  My eyebrows went up. "You would've come along to surveil someone's house outside of your own jurisdiction?"

  My husband sighed. "I'm not the bad guy, Merry. I want to help you. You're my wife first and foremost."

  "But you could've gotten in trouble." I shook my head. "Besides, I had no idea I was going to find Pastor Malone there."

  Then I filled him in on what I knew. Rex listened carefully, with his eyebrows rising when I mentioned the dangerous bits.

  "He didn't recognize you a second time?" Rex rubbed his chin. "That's good. And once he wakes up, we can get an official statement from him."

  "Mordecai kidnapped him, and Vanderzee might be in on it," I said, repeating what I'd told Carnack.

  Rex put his arm around me. He didn't usually go in for public displays of affection when he was on the job. And since he said he was taking first shift for the sheriff, I was pretty sure he was on the job.

  "I don't like the man, Merry, but that doesn't make him a killer."

  "Well," I grumbled, "he's something."

  Rex hugged me before pulling back. "Merry?"

  "Yes?" I was finally tearing into my snacks.

  "Why are you wearing a fanny pack?"

  I'd totally forgotten to leave my gun in the car. "Oh. It had, um, these snacks in it. You know how I get hungry." I jumped to my feet. "I'll take it to the car."

  "Okay," he said amiably. "Make sure the safety is on on your snack."

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Pastor Malone was in bad shape. Looking through the window into his room, I could see that the nurse had hooked him up to an IV and was monitoring his vitals. As badly as I felt for the guy, I really wanted to talk to him. If he named his kidnapper and explained why he didn't recognize me even though he'd said he'd seen me, all of this could be over.

  "You're pacing again," Rex said.

  I stopped and looked at him. "Not my fault that all of my snacks are loaded with sugar."

  Rex asked, "Why is it you don't remember anything from the night of the murder?"

  I sat down next to him. "I don't know. Isn't that weird? I mean, I should at least remember what I was doing before whatever happened to me. And I still have no idea why I was wearing that shirt."

  I'd been so wrapped up in trying to find the real killer, and saving pastors from kidnappers, that I hadn't stopped to think about how I'd gotten into the shed in the first place.

  "Do you remember what happened that night?"

  Rex thought for a moment. "Only that you'd left your favorite water bottle at the old house after a troop meeting. Just before I fell asleep, you said you were going to go get it. I passed out and only woke up when Carnack called me."

  Huh. My insulated, stainless steel Girl Scout cup had been a gift from the troop. "Have you seen it at home? I haven't."

  Rex ran his hands through his hair. "No. And since I've been doing dishes with you out galivanting around, I should have."
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  I got up. "Stay here. Let me know what happens. I'm going to go look for it. And something else."

  "That's probably a good idea. What's the other thing?"

  I winked at him. "Whatever shirt I was wearing. I'm sure I didn't go to bed in a Best Bye shirt."

  "No." Rex shook his head. "You were wearing your Dora the Explorer pajamas. You changed from the bottoms into jeans so that if someone spotted you, they'd think you were dressed. I haven't seen the top either."

  I might have broken a few speed limits on my way home, and I didn't bother with our house, focusing on my old house across the street. After unlocking the door, I stepped inside. Nothing looked any different.

  Had the killer rendered me unconscious in my own house? That took some nerve. I searched the place in a few minutes but didn't spot the shirt or tumbler. Maybe I hadn't made it inside? Maybe the killer caught me before I entered. I'd have grabbed it if I had been inside my old house, and it would be lying in the yard. Then again, maybe I had retrieved the cup before he grabbed me. That would mean the killer had my cup!

  I wandered back outside and sat down on the front stoop. The killer must've taken both things and tossed them. Closing my eyes, I tried hard to remember what had happened, but my memory refused to cooperate. For some reason, the idea that the killer had taken my cup seemed more and more plausible.

  How had he gotten me from here to the shed? And why bother taking my shirt? Why change what I was wearing? What was the significance of the Best Bye shirt? And why had he taken the cup?

  His fingerprints must have been on it, and instead of taking the time to wipe them off, he just took it with him and pitched it somewhere. Dammit. I loved that cup.

  I got to my feet and stared at our house across the street. I had left to come over here. The cup was missing, which definitely meant that I went inside, got the cup, and then the cup and I vanished.

  Argh!!! I was exhausted. I could take a quick nap, but I wanted this over and done with.

  What if I retraced my steps? It couldn't hurt. I got into the van as if I'd been kidnapped and lay there for a moment on the passenger seat.

  But you can't drive when unconscious, so this reenactment wouldn't be perfect. So I turned the key and took the most direct route to Bladdersly, keeping an eye on the sides of the road for the cup or shirt.

  I drove slowly, shining a flashlight on each side of the road as I went. I was halfway to Bladdersly when I spotted something shiny in a ditch. After pulling over, I ran to the spot where my insulated cup lay. My cup! Yay! I ran back to my van for a pen and, upon returning, used it to pick up the cup and stick it in my console.

  The muddy water had probably washed away any fingerprints, but I'd leave that to the professionals. Getting back into the car, I continued on to Bladdersly. If I'd found this piece of evidence, perhaps I'd find something at the shed that might jog my memory.

  My Dora shirt was still missing. When I pulled into the parking lot where the shed was, the sun had started to come up. After getting the key from the mailbox, I let myself inside and closed the door behind me.

  The table was still there, and everything looked the same except for the missing box of cereal. A little door in my mind opened just a smidge. There had been a box of Lucky Charms at my old house. I remember that I'd worried it would go stale just sitting there and had wanted to bring it to the other house!

  I remembered something! This was good news! But why just that fragment? Why not the whole thing? Closing my eyes, I willed the rest of my brain to wake up. I gave up after a few minutes. If that came back to me, maybe other stuff would too.

  The bookshelf still sported copies of Boats of the Midwest. Maybe Mordecai bought out the print run in hopes of hiding the book because he hated how he was portrayed. That would make sense since his alter ego, Menachem, had committed some pretty serious infractions. This was his shed. I was becoming more certain that Tyson was Anonymous.

  Had Mordecai lured Tyson to the shed and killed him? Vanderzee and an unknown person had driven past here at the time. Mordecai and Vanderzee had been together at Mordecai's house. Perhaps Vanderzee brought Tyson here. Or was it me? If Vanderzee was the one who'd kidnapped me, I could be the hazy figure in his car.

  It made sense. But besides my finding Malone tied up at Mordecai's, there was no real proof that he was the killer with Vanderzee assisting.

  How did the killer lock us in the room from the outside? I curled my fingers into a fist, and it hit me as the key bit into my palm. Oh, duh! The killer locked me in from the outside and stuck the key in the mailbox. Well, that answered that. Seemed pretty obvious, and for a moment, I was embarrassed that I hadn't thought of it before. Maybe that's because the police had said I'd locked the door from the inside. And I'd fallen for that.

  While it was great to have that part of the mystery solved, there were many other questions. Why frame me, besides Vanderzee's obvious dislike of me? Why change my shirt?

  I took a few deep breaths. Think, Merry!

  After ten more minutes of searching the shed, I had nothing. Maybe I'd think of something on the way home. Or maybe I'd drive past Mordecai's house. It was possible that the sheriff had found something since I'd last talked to him.

  About five minutes later, I pulled into Mordecai's driveway. The house had crime scene tape wrapped around it. The lights were out. That was a quick investigation.

  I brightened. The sheriff must've gotten Mordecai to confess, and they took him in! I could be in the clear! Turning to the house, I got the feeling that I should take a look on my own. The sheriff would never know I'd been here.

  Grabbing a pair of rubber gloves from my van, I went around back to the cellar doors. For some reason, even though this led down to the actual crime scene, there was no tape on them. That was weird. You'd think that this area in particular would at least be dusted for fingerprints. It was…

  Oh, for crying out loud, Merry! You don't care! Just go in!

  I pulled open the door on the right, turned on my flashlight, and made my way into the basement for the second time in one day. There was the chair, right where we'd left it, with the ropes I'd cut off of Malone's hands pooled on the floor behind it.

  Crime scene tape blocked off the stairs that led to the main floor. I'd only been in here a short time, and that had been taken up with watching for Mordecai's return and getting Malone to move.

  A table across from the chair was littered with various knives. A shudder ran through me. Torture. I hated torture. At least I got the pastor out before Mordecai started in on him. I walked around the basement. Were there copies of Boats here? If so, I couldn't find them. Just the usual crap people have in their basement. Including a litter box. Effie really did live here.

  Poor cat. Her owner was going to prison. Maybe Rex would let me adopt her? With that thought comforting me, I walked over to the chair. It was a sturdy oak chair, the kind Grandma Wrath kept in her house for when we needed to add to the dinner table or to sit on when tornadoes came around.

  I bent down and picked up the rope, fiddling with it like a fidgety kid. There was nothing here. Nothing, at least, that could tell me more about Malone being held here for the last couple of days.

  Effie meowed upstairs. I guess it couldn't hurt to make sure the cat had food and water. It would only take a minute to check. Ducking under the tape, I made my way upstairs and into the kitchen.

  Sure enough, the cat dishes were empty. Effie jumped onto the kitchen table and eyed me suspiciously. I didn't blame her. The cat had only seen me two times. Once in the dark when I was hiding under the bed, and again, in the dark, as I threw her through the air.

  "Hey, Effie." I scratched her chin, and her eyes rolled back into her head.

  I still had the rope in my other hand. I stuffed it into my pocket so I could put it back after feeding the cat. I found a bag of dried cat food and poured some into one bowl, filling the other one with water. Effie attacked it, gulping it down as if she'd never been fed a
moment in her life. This was a lie. I knew that because Philby did the same thing, twice a day—as if I'd forget that I'd already fed her once.

  After turning the kitchen light back off and sneaking down the stairs, I pulled the rope out of my pocket. I was about to drop it onto the floor when it hit me like the log in Betty's closet. I sank down onto the chair as the various puzzle pieces that had been floating around finally fit themselves together in my head.

  Oh. Wow. I knew who'd killed Tyson, and I had a pretty good idea why. I still couldn't remember how I had gotten to the shed or why I was wearing the blue shirt. But I knew the important stuff.

  I ran to the van and roared out onto the gravel road, skidding a little as I did.

  As I came close to Who's There, a text popped up on my cell. I didn't have time to look at it, and I was driving too fast on a gravel road, which meant that needed my attention for the moment.

  Another ding indicated that there was another text. It was probably Rex wondering where I'd gotten to. Or maybe Pastor Malone had come to at the hospital! I was just pulling into the parking lot when my cell dinged again.

  It was Kelly. She had news and wondered why I wasn't responding. I read the texts. And then I smiled.

  I knew who'd killed Tyson. And now I had proof.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Did you know that setting the stage for a big reveal isn't as easy as you'd think? Oh, I know that in the movies it's easy for the detective to gather everyone together in the parlor so that he could explain everything.

  But people in real life have real schedules. Which meant I needed to beg, whine, and finally threaten to get everyone in the same spot. Sheriff Carnack got the folks from Bladdersly to join us at the hospital. Rex helped me get the others.

  The hospital had been very helpful in providing a conference room, and they wheeled Pastor Malone into it. Maybe they were just worried that there'd be another screaming match and thought this was the best way to keep us away from the other patients.

  The ex-pastor was conscious, but mentally unavailable. The doctor explained it as shock. He said it could wear off at any moment and made me promise to keep things calm. I had no trouble with that.