The Devil in Maryvale

by Jackie Griffey

  Muriel Davis opened the door before he got to it.

  "Your office called," she explained. "I was watching for you."

  "I need to talk with you," Cas began. "But I can come back tomorrow if that would be more convenient?"

  "No, no. It's all right. It was nice of you to have them call first. And I talked with Rhodes Cromwell earlier. He said you would be coming by."

  Cas felt better as Muriel smiled. She held the door and gestured for him to come in.

  He guessed Muriel Davis to be about fifty-five. Had Denise comparatively late in life, he noted silently. Muriel was a few years younger than Margaret, her schoolteacher sister. She was about Connie's size, five-two, and slender. Her hair was ash blonde and becomingly arranged. She was still a beautiful woman. Cas noticed all these things and with a pang of anger at Denise's killer, also noticed the traces of tears on her cheeks.

  For a few seconds neither spoke. Cas glanced around the pleasant room. It was attractively arranged, cozy and comfortable. He put his compassion aside and concentrated on the things he needed to ask.

  "Thank you. As I said, I need to ask you some questions. I'm very sorry about this, Connie sends her sympathy, too."

  Muriel only nodded. He took the chair Muriel indicated, determined to find out what he could and get this questioning over as soon as possible.

  "First, is there anything you can tell me that you think will help us find out how this happened?"

  "No, I'm afraid not." Muriel slowly shook her head. Her eyes were dark from crying and lack of sleep but she was composed.

  "I've been thinking, trying to remember anything that could have warned us something was wrong. Margaret and I both have. But there was nothing. Denise had friends and acquaintances, some she was closer to than others. And I didn't let her date very much. She was only a sophomore this year...." A tear spilled over and rolled down Muriel's cheek unheeded.

  Cas sat listening with patience and sympathy.

  "She went out once in a while. It was when there was a play or a game at school. Activities where she would be in a group of friends. There was no special boyfriend and as far as I know she got along well with all of her friends. There was no problem with any of them that I know of."

  "As routine investigation, I'm going to have to talk with everyone you can think of in her circle of friends," Cas told her. "I will need to talk with all of them whether they feel they can help or not. We don't have much to go on right now. But rest assured, we are doing all we can to find out what happened and who did this."

  Muriel nodded again, her head bowed. Another tear glistened as it spilled over.

  "I'm sorry to have to bother you, Mrs. Davis. If you think of anything at all, no matter how small or seemingly unimportant it is, please call me. If I'm not in my office Gladys will let me know and I will get back with you just as soon as I can. Have you had a chance yet to make out that list of Denise's friends for me?"

  "Yes." Muriel looked up, seeming to come back from memory to reality. "Yes, I have. I started on it as soon as Rhodes Cromwell told me you would need it. I think I left it in the kitchen, I'll get it." She rose as she spoke.

  "Would you like some coffee?" Muriel paused to ask.

  "No," Cas smiled. "But thank you."

  Muriel left the room and Cas got up too. He paced, looking around the room. He took a closer look at the family pictures displayed on a table and a bookshelf. Some were of her and Denise. There was one of her with her sister, Margaret Avery, another of her sister, and two of Denise at different ages.

  Cas was holding a picture of Muriel accepting some kind of award from Judge Spruce when she returned. He set it down carefully on the bookshelf and took the list she handed him.

  "Thank you. My home number is written on the back of the card I gave you. You can call me at the office or at home."

  * * *

  At his office, Cas stopped to give Gladys the list of names Muriel had given him.

  "Gladys, get the phone book and find numbers for all these students she doesn't have a number down for. You'd better check the others, too, to make sure they're right. And leave three or four lines between each one for notes."

  "Yes, sir." She took the list and reached for the phone book.

  Cas gave silent thanks for Gladys as he always did. He could hear her voice from his office as he waded through his mail, checking something with the operator. He wasn't expecting miracles but some of the friends on Muriel's list might know something they didn't realize was important. Right now there was absolutely nothing to give him a start on the case. His innate logic kicked in to reassure him. Murder had been done and somebody had to know something.

  "If no concrete facts turn up, maybe I'll at least be able to tell which ones are lying or hedging for some reason, and go from there...."

  He went to the credenza and examined the casts of the tire prints Rhodes and Doug had brought in, touching them in several places with his fingers. They were made by a little foreign truck as Doug had pointed out. He squinted at a couple of worn places long and wide enough to identify the vehicle if they got lucky and found something to compare them with. A small rock was stuck in the tread of one of them. "Not much help, as many gravel roads as there were in this area."

  He sat down and opened the flat file on the Davis case before reaching for the phone. He dialed the coroner's office.

  After several rings he was surprised to hear Clint answer the call himself.

  "We're a little short of help around here today," he explained.

  "I know how that is. I don't mean to put the rush on you about this Davis case but we haven't got a thing to go on. Is there anything you can tell me yet? Anything that might at least give me something to work with?"

  "I was looking at it when you called. Some notes. Hasn't been typed up yet, just some handwritten notes and a tape that will have to be transcribed. Hang on a second, will you?"

  "Sure." Cas tried not to get his hopes up. He heard footsteps and the sound of papers being shuffled.

  "Here we are. Time of death as close as we can figure was between ten and eleven o'clock. The murder weapon was driven in with such force we had to work on it to get it out and examine the area around it. Someone has written that here. You knew that, huh." Clint read to himself before continuing.

  "No abnormalities. Well nourished female about fifteen, et cetera." He paused again. "She had eaten at some fast food place shortly before she died, the usual burger and fries."

  "She hadn't been raped or molested, you said earlier. Were there any other wounds? Or maybe needle marks or anything like that? I don't really expect she might have been experimenting with drugs after talking with her mother. But sometimes the families and the ones who love them best are the last to know about such things."

  "No, nothing like that. And nothing in the handwritten notes about anything in her system. She wasn't on drugs."

  His voice rose a little. "Here's something. There weren't any other puncture wounds, but there was bruising around one of her ankles and the upper part of her foot."

  "You mean she may have been tied up?"

  "No. There would have been different marks if there had been a rope or chain or a restraint like that. I went down and looked at them when I first glanced over this. She wasn't tied up. It's more like a turned ankle, and it must have been extremely painful. It happened before the stabbing."

  "Before the stabbing. You think she may have been trying to get away?"

  "I don't know. I suppose it's possible, given what happened to her. That's all we found. The tape I've got here deals with organs, weights, and technical things that won't help you."

  "You mean I wouldn't understand it?" Cas grinned into the phone.

  "I didn't say that," Clint laughed. "But, what it boils down to, is there weren't any abnormalities and the stab wound to the heart is what killed her."

  "There was nothing else then, but the bruised ankle."

  Cas tried to think of something
constructive to ask while he had Clint on the phone, but came up with nothing.

  "Well, thanks for the Pine County translation. It looks like I'm going to have to keep leaning on everybody who knew her or had any connection with her family to get a start on this." He paused, discouraged. "They already hate to see me coming."

  "There is one other thing," Clint hesitated. "Almost too trifling to bring up."

  "Nothing is too trifling. Right now, I'd be grateful for anything. What is it?"

  "The report hasn't been typed up yet as I said, but in the handwritten notes on one of the forms under Toxicology is written, 'trace of mild sedative'. There weren't any drugs, poisons or anything unusual except that. Trace means it was so little it wouldn't have had any effect. It was just noted because it was there. You said anything would help, so I'm telling you about it."

  "You're trying awfully hard not to get my hopes up, aren't you? What was the sedative, do you know?"

  "No idea. The notes, word for word, say 'trace of mild tranquilizer or sedative', guess it will be on the report when it's typed up, but it's nothing. It could be one of the sleeping pills they sell at most drugstores. But Cas, a trace wouldn't have any effect at all on a young, healthy, teenager."

  "Hmm, just this 'trace of a mild sedative' is all."

  "Right. And don't hang too much on that," Clint insisted. "The only thing unusual about it is the age of the victim. It probably wouldn't even be worth mentioning in someone say, sixty or more. Tranquilizers and pain killers are common in that age group. My mother takes a mild tranquilizer. She calls it her 'cope pill'. So the only thing unusual about it is the age factor and I'm sure it had no effect at all on the victim."

  "All right, you've dampened down what little hope I'd built up. So all we've got besides the fatal stab wound is the mild, not even effective tranquilizer and the bruised ankle?"

  "That's it. The bruised ankle and the top of the foot. Probably twisted it some way. Hadn't had time to swell much."

  "Okay. Thanks for your help, and explaining the notes too. I'd have wondered at that last entry."

  "You're welcome, sorry I couldn't help more. This will be typed up on a form soon as we can get somebody roped in to catch us up on our paperwork."

  "Okay, thanks again."

  Hanging up the phone, Cas went back to the skimpy file. He wrote down everything Clint had told him and added questions and some guesses of his own about the tranquilizer, none of which he felt would help. He drew a line and wrote, 'sleeping pill?' and 'cope pill?' after Clint's comments.

  He still considered the possibility of a sleeping pill, remembering Muriel had thought Denise was asleep when she looked in on her the night before they knew she was missing.

  Cas resolved to ask Muriel about the sleeping pill next time he talked to her. Maybe she did have something on her mind and couldn't sleep? He'd check that out. He was still holding the file, sifting possibilities, when Gladys came in.

  "I know that was a long list, but I was glad to see Mrs. Davis wrote down everyone she could think of. And this gives me a list I can check off or tell who I've talked to twice," Cas said.

  "Oh, it's not so long. I've still got some to check, but I knew you were wanting this so I brought this part. It's most of them. Since she wrote these first, they're probably the most important anyway."

  Cas favored her with the skeptical look he always gave her when she tried to do his detecting for him. She ignored it as she always did and went to finish the list as the phone rang. Cas reached for the phone.

  "Sheriff Larkin." Cas answered with one eye on the neat pages.

  "I don't know whether this is the right way to report it or not," an irritated voice began. "But I'm missing two cows and a calf. And it's not the first time, either!"

  That got his attention. Cas held the phone away from his ear. The voice rose as it continued and its anger showed. It was a loud male voice and full of barely suppressed indignation.

  "Yes, sir," Cas said as soon as he got a chance. "Let me get your name and a few facts and there will be someone at your place this afternoon to take a full report. You say this is not the first time?"

  "No," the voice sounded a little calmer. "This is the last straw, though. The calf was the last straw. I've been missing a head or two at a time for a little over a year now, and it's got to stop."

  "Yes, sir, I certainly agree with you there. I wish you had called us sooner. Was there some reason why you didn't?"

  "Well, ah," There was a pause.

  "I think I recognize your voice. Is this Caleb Martin?"

  "Yes," Caleb was pleased. "I didn't think you'd remember me."

  "Your place is on the other side of Peaceful Ridge, isn't it?"

  "Yes, you go on past the Peaceful Ridge Cemetery entrance. Then a bit farther on, you will see the gate to my place. Did you say you'll be out this afternoon?" Caleb wanted action as soon as possible.

  "I've got something I have to do this afternoon regarding another case," Cas apologized. "But a deputy will be out there and take a report. We'll try to find out who's responsible for this and keep it from happening again. Be sure to tell the deputy everything you can remember that might be of help."

  "I will, and thank you. I'll be expecting him then, this afternoon."

  Cas replaced the receiver wondering why Caleb Martin hadn't reported the cattle thefts. Even losing a head at a time would have been an expensive loss and he had certainly sounded mad enough to report it.

  He stepped over to his office door. "Gladys that was Caleb Martin on the phone. He said he's missing some cattle and it's not the first time. Someone needs to go over to his place and make a report on it. Send Rhodes as soon as he gets back. He's good at handling ruffled feelings and getting information while he's at it. He knows where Caleb Martin's place is."

  Gladys looked at the wall clock. "Okay. He should be in any minute now. And here are the rest of the names and phone numbers you wanted."

  "Thanks. I hope I'll be able to find out something from some of these friends. Looks like it's going to take a while to find a place to start on this." He went back into his office, reading the rest of the list.

  Muriel had obviously given the list a lot of thought. There were more names than Cas was aware of in her and Missy's high school classes. Most of the family names sounded familiar to him. The children's names were not unless they had been in some kind of trouble, and there were very few of those. "Thank goodness!" He mumbled to himself, his eyes busy.

  After reading it over Cas decided to show the list to Missy when he got home and get a peer's eye view of these friends.

  Muriel Davis's number was not in the file. He looked it up and added it before dialing her number. Muriel answered at once.

  "This is Sheriff Larkin. I'm sorry to bother you again so soon. I meant to ask you about something when I was out there this afternoon."

  "That's all right. I tried to tell you everything I could remember of what Rhodes said you might need. What else is it you need to know?"

  "Your sister, Margaret, said Denise had gone out the window once before. Do you remember that?"

  "Yes," Muriel's voice had a smile in it. Cas was relieved it wasn't a bad memory he had brought up.

  "As I remember, it was about a year ago. Maybe not quite that long. Denise had just started going out some. That is, with groups like the Latin Club, and with several friends to a game or a play. That particular time she wanted to go to the mall to shop and have a milkshake. That sounds innocent enough, but they wanted to stay until the mall closes about ten o'clock. There was no definite plan and no older ones to go with them, so it sounded like what they call 'hanging out' to me. I wouldn't let her go. She got mad at me. Pouted and went up to her room early."

  Muriel's voice sounded soft and distant as she thought back. "Margaret and I both remember that night, all right. Denise went out the window while she was still mad at me, I guess. She evidently hadn't been gone long when I went up to see if she would like som
e hot chocolate. No one should go to sleep mad," Muriel explained. The affection in her voice was audible as Cas imagined her smiling into the phone.

  Cas smiled too as he listened to Muriel's voice, not interrupting, picturing the teenage rebellion.

  "My sister, Margaret, went to the mall and I waited at home in her room. Then in about an hour after we discovered she was gone here came Denise, over the carport and in the window. She sure was surprised to see me! She'd been gone about two hours. Must have been a real lark for her. She thought she was home free and got by with it. I sat her down and talked to her, not losing my temper. Since she was home and all right, it really was sort of a comic situation. But after talking to her, and impressing her about how worried I was about her, I grounded her for two weeks. There weren't any more trips out the window until this one." Muriel's voice had dropped, sounding hurt. Cas pricked up his ears.

  "That's one reason I worried so much as soon as we found out she was gone. She knew how I would worry. I just, you know, I just had a bad feeling about it because I didn't think she would do it again. Not unless, oh, I don't know. I just didn't think she would slip out that window again after our talk and she understood how worried I was."

  "You feel whatever she went out for was pretty important to her then?"

  "Yes. I just don't know what it could have been. I've wondered and tried to think where she could have gone, but I don't know. I wish I could be more help," Muriel added sadly.

  "Thank you. I appreciate your cooperation, trying to help. We're getting everything we can learn to try to put together what happened. We have to keep asking questions and talking to people. It takes an awful lot of time and investigation to get all the bits and pieces of information together. And there's a lot more of this ahead of us, so bear with us."

  "I understand, it's all right."

  "You feel," Cas pressed, "It must have been something important to her for her to go out that window again?"

  Muriel took a deep breath. "Either important to her or something she didn't want to talk to me or Margaret about, though I can't imagine what that would be. As I told you before, there weren't any problems here at home or with any of her friends that I was aware of."