The First Ladies Club Box Set

by J B Hawker

  Judy took their empty plates into the kitchen and returned with the pie.

  “You may not want any pie, right now, but I do. It is the perfect complement to my meal,” she said, sitting down and cutting a generous slice of lemony cream-filled pastry.

  Ken groaned but passed his dessert plate for Judy to cut a piece of pie for him, too.

  They ate in silence. After the last bite had been eaten, Ken set his fork aside deliberately and faced his wife.

  “Now, will you tell me what we are dealing with?” he asked.

  “Of course,” Judy replied, grinning. “But you’d better prepare yourself for a shock.”

  “Just tell me!”

  Judy chuckled, got up and walked around the table. Taking Ken’s hands in hers, she pulled him up to stand beside the table. She put her hands on his waist, looked up into his eyes and said, “Lightning really can strike twice.”

  “What? What are you talking about? You weren’t struck by lightning! Tell me what’s wrong with you.”

  “I’m having a recurrence of an old condition. No one thought it would ever return, but it has,” she teased.

  “What old condition? You never had any condition,” Ken struggled to understand his wife.

  “My condition is called pregnancy and when I had it before it resulted in the birth of our daughters,” Judy said, finally taking pity on him.

  “Pregnancy? You’re pregnant? We are having another baby? But, how? Are you sure?” Ken babbled.

  Judy pulled Ken’s head down and kissed him to quiet his questions, then led her bemused husband into the living room where they sat together on the sofa.

  “I’m pregnant with twins, again. Isn’t it wonderful?” she said, waiting for Ken’s response.

  He shook his head, as if to clear it, then threw his arms around Judy, smiling.

  “This is a miracle. Twins! What a blessing. This is the reason for your nausea, tiredness and dizzy spells, right? How far along are you? Do you feel okay? Can I get you anything?” he asked.

  “I’m fine, now that I know you are as happy as I am about this news,” Judy said. “Doctor Haleby thought you would agree with him, but I knew you wouldn’t.”

  “Agree with Haleby about what? What’s there to agree about?” Ken asked.

  “He says I’m too old to carry twins. He wanted me to have an abortion, can you imagine?” Judy said.

  “Is there a problem? Will the pregnancy be dangerous for you?” Ken asked, obviously worried.

  “Of course not. He’s just being an old fuddy-duddy. I’m fine and I’m going to be fine and so are our babies. We will deal with any problems, if they come up, when they happen. Not before.”

  Ken kissed his wife, again, delighted with the happy news. But, at the same time, he offered a silent prayer to God for the health and safety of Judy and their babies.

  Chapter 16

  Cassius Haleby drew immense gratification from his home. He’d designed it himself, with the help of a prominent architect. Ensconced in one of the half-dozen handsome white Adirondack chairs arrayed on the front deck, surveying the magnificent scene below, nourished his self-image as a man of influence and power. Unwinding from his day with a glass of fine bourbon as the sun slid toward the water was one of his greatest pleasures. It was a time usually spent in reflection upon the many accomplishments in his life, but today his disappointments and failures were intruding.

  Arriving home after a Crisis Pregnancy committee meeting, he’d found Inez drunk, as usual, but in a violent rage, rather than her usual maudlin weeping. Having the children at home so briefly for the memorial service seemed to have set her off. She’d accused him of alienating them from her, rather than facing that her own drinking and self-pity were to blame.

  He’d been unable to placate her and, when she’d thrown an empty liquor bottle at him, he’d been forced to sedate her before putting her to bed.

  She would sleep through the night, but the episode had made Cassius pensive.

  He wondered what his life might have been like with a stronger, more stable woman at his side. Inez had borne him five beautiful children, but she’d abdicated her position as wife and mother to indulge a love of alcohol. She’d shown no indication of this weakness before the children were born. In their first years of marriage, she’d been a competent pediatrician and a satisfactory hostess. There was no way he could have predicted her descent into alcoholism.

  Cassius shook his leonine head, saying, “Life’s not fair, no matter how one slices it,” he raised his glass in a solitary toast to the unfairness of life and emptied it in one swallow.

  *

  The next morning, Detective Ransom was considering how to proceed with the new information from Victoria’s old classmate when Sergeant Forester walked into his office and sat down.

  “I’ve just been going over this report on the known offenders who were active around here when our girl disappeared and something struck me,” he said.

  “What’s that?”

  “There was a guy, name of Robert Hewitt, who was convicted of several rapes in the sixties in coastal Oregon and around Crescent City, California. He went away for killing a young girl in Coos Bay in seventy-one.”

  “So, what makes him especially interesting?” Ransom asked.

  “It’s just that he was recently released and he’s living in Portland, now. The times and crimes are a fit, so I thought he might be worth a visit.”

  “Is he the only one on the list who fits the bill?”

  “Yeah, so far, anyway,” Forester said. “It’s hard to include or exclude anyone without a definite time of death, but this guy was doing his dirty work in the area at about the time our girl disappeared.”

  “You got an address?” Ransom asked and Forester nodded.

  “Okay. We might as well check him out,” Ransom said. “I’m not in any hurry to interview the cousin, anyway. He’s the sainted family doctor for the whole town of Bannoch, now, and it could get ugly if we accuse him of having a hand in his cousin’s disappearance.”

  “All we’ve got to go on is what that woman with the purple hair had to say about him from forty years ago, anyway. That’s pretty slim,” Forester agreed.

  “Let’s hope your man in Portland has had a crisis of conscience and wants to confess in his old age, so we can put this case to bed.”

  *

  Melissa Gutermann was enjoying a second cup of coffee when Ariadne Bostwich dropped in.

  “Oh, dear, I’ve come too early, haven’t I?” she said, looking at Melissa’s bathrobe and slippers.

  “You’re not early, I’m just indulging in a lazy morning. Will you have a cup?” she asked, gesturing at the coffee maker.

  “That will be delightful, thanks, but let me get it,” Ariadne said. She poured herself a cup of coffee, adding a spoonful of sugar and a splash of milk.

  “Didn’t you sleep well last night?” she asked.

  “As a matter of fact, I slept better than I have since we moved here,” Melissa said, with a satisfied smile.

  “That’s good to hear, dear. I just dropped in to see how you are getting along. I’m pleased to know you are beginning to settle in.”

  “I’m glad you came over,” Melissa said. “I owe you an apology. In fact, I owe almost everyone an apology.”

  “Whatever for?” Ariadne asked.

  “For my attitude. I’ve been complaining about the small-town attitudes and prejudices of the people here, when my own big city bias and hypersensitivity have been much worse.”

  Ariadne started to disagree, but Melissa held up one hand to forestall her.

  “No, it’s true. I didn’t want to leave Seattle and when Jorge accepted the call to come here, I was angry. I’d promised to support his ministry, so I took it out on everyone else and convinced myself this community was hopelessly small-minded. I marched in, guns blazing, ready to straighten out all your old-fashioned, rural notions without giving Bannoch a chance. And I said some hurtful things to
perfectly nice people, too. I’m ashamed of myself.”

  “You have been lovely to me, but if it is true that you’ve said things you regret, then I’m glad you’ve had a change of heart. I wouldn’t make any grand public gestures, though. You could make personal amends in private to those you’ve hurt, if you like, but just letting your change of attitude show should go a long way toward mending any fences. I think you will find most of the people in our church and community will be happy to give you another chance.”

  “Thanks, Ariadne. You’ve been such a good friend. I’ll take your advice. I’d like to get your opinion about something else, too.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Since I won’t be needed to reorganize and run every program in the church, after all, I will have plenty of time on my hands. I was thinking of doing some substitute teaching. I’ve got my degree. What do you think?”

  “What a good idea!” Ariadne said. “I can introduce you to the people you’ll need to speak with at the district office.”

  When Ariadne had gone, the sunny day beckoned, so Melissa pulled on jeans and a knit shirt, slipped into her sandals and headed to the wooden stairs leading down the hillside to the beach below. She danced along the sand, feeling the breeze ruffling her hair and blowing away the tension in her muscles. Confession was good for the soul, indeed, she thought, and began to sing praise songs, backed up by the ever-present seagull chorus.

  *

  Judy was delivering a mirror she’d made for Ariadne from a broken antique picture frame. As her car approached the driveway leading up to the Bostwich house, a flicker of movement down on the beach caught her eye. Judy felt a pang at the sight of Melissa’s youthful exuberance, but remembering the precious new lives growing inside her own middle-aged body quickly dispelled her brief jealousy. She thanked God, again, for all His blessings and continued up the gravel lane with a song of praise in her heart.

  Chapter 17

  The drive to Portland took most of the afternoon. It was almost five o’clock when Sergeant Forester parked the unmarked car in front of a rundown apartment building near an industrial park in one of the Rose City’s less attractive neighborhoods.

  There wasn’t a rose bush in sight in the weedy, trash-strewn yard as the two officers climbed the outside stairs leading to the second-floor apartment where Robert Hewitt was reported to be living.

  Cheap plastic blinds, their many broken slats askew, angled across the window beside the door and twitched when Ransom knocked.

  The detective knocked more forcefully, and a man’s gravelly voice called out, “Whaddya want?”

  “Sheriff’s officers, open up,” Ransom replied.

  The door opened a few inches, but a security chain, clinging tenuously by a single screw, remained across the gap.

  “I didn’t do nothin’, so go away,” the man said, standing behind the door.

  “Are you Robert Hewitt?” Ransom asked, holding his badge in front of the opening.

  “What if I am? You got nothin’ on me. I been minding my own business.”

  “We just want to talk with you. Open the door and we’ll come in and explain why we’re here. Or we can keep talking through the door and share your private business with your neighbors.”

  After a pause, Hewitt removed the chain and opened the door.

  The apartment was small and crowded with an assortment of broken-down furniture. Dishes, beer cans and take-out containers crowded every horizontal surface. The room smelled of sweat, cigarettes, alcohol and decay.

  Once inside, Ransom got a good look at their reluctant host. Robert Hewitt was a skeleton of a man who looked to be anywhere from seventy to ninety. He wore a stained undershirt over greasy-looking heavy wool trousers missing the top fly button. His sparse tufts of gray hair were matted, and several days’ growth of silvery-white whiskers dusted his jaw like a coating of frost.

  “I let you in, so what do you want with me?” he asked, showing widely spaced tobacco-yellowed teeth.

  Ransom sat down on a bent metal chair and nodded to Forester to find a seat.

  Forester scanned the room for a place to settle without fear of picking up lice, or worse, but chose to play it safe and leaned against the wall.

  “Look here, I’ve done my time, so you got no call to hassle me like this,” Hewitt said.

  “We are familiar with your record, Mr. Hewitt. We know, for instance, that you were convicted of raping several young girls and even killing one back in the seventies,” Ransom began.

  “That’s been done and over with, I said!” Hewitt shouted, starting to get up from the sofa.

  Forester stepped toward him and the old man cringed and sat back with a surly expression.

  “Yes, as you say, that’s over with, but we wondered if you might have some information for us about another young girl who went missing while you were still indulging in your nasty hobby.”

  “What are you talking about? I didn’t do nothin’ to no other girls, nor to the ones I was caught for, neither. I am an innocent man,” Hewitt said, looking toward the window as if fascinated by the spider webs crisscrossing its surface.

  “Can you tell us when you were last in Bannoch, then? Just to satisfy our curiosity,” Ransom asked.

  “Bannoch? Never been there. Is that up Aberdeen way?” Hewitt asked, wide-eyed.

  “Come off it, Hewitt! You know where Bannoch is. You drove through it often enough when you were preying on young girls.”

  Hewitt glared and clamped his mouth shut.

  “Okay, we know you were in and around Bannoch in the sixties. Where were you working back then?” Ransom tried another tack.

  “I worked in the woods, cuttin’ firewood. I was a self-employed entrypenoor,” Hewitt boasted. “It was an all-cash business, so you won’t find no pay stubs or that.”

  “You got any family or friends from before you went to prison?” Ransom asked.

  “Are you kidding? I was up the river for forty years. I got no one and no one’s got me. Now, I’ve answered enough questions, so get out,” Hewitt stood up and opened the door.

  “We’re going, but we may be back,” Ransom said, as he walked out, followed by his sergeant.

  Almost before Forester cleared the opening, the door slammed shut, making him jump.

  “That wasn’t much help,” he said.

  “No, it wasn’t, but I wasn’t very optimistic about it. One thing, though, I wouldn’t put it past this guy to be our killer. I’ll bet he never got fingered for all his crimes. When we get back to Tillamook, look into Hewitt’s files. See who he roomed with in prison, who his friends were before, and see if you can track down anyone we can talk to. It would give me a real good feeling to put that guy back inside.”

  “You don’t think he’ll get up to anything, now, at his age, do you?” Forester asked.

  “You can’t teach an old dog new tricks, maybe, but they will keep trying to perform the same old ones, as long as they can get away with it.”

  Chapter 18

  With twin babies soon to arrive at the Falls’s home, Ken finalized his plans and announced his retirement on the following Sunday during the church service, but the couple decided not to mention Judy’s pregnancy until she began to show.

  Standing at the door shaking hands with departing worshipers, they found it difficult not to share their other exciting news with their friends.

  “You are too young to retire, Pastor,” elderly Mrs. Bridges exclaimed, taking both Ken’s hands in hers. “Are you ill?”

  “No, I’m fine, Lily, but I’m ready to step aside for the next generation. There’s a time for every purpose under Heaven, you know,” Ken replied.

  “How will we manage without you?” Millie Jones leaned over Mrs. Bridges to ask.

  Ken was gratified as his congregation expressed many similar sentiments, but he sensed at least a few of the members greeted his retirement with relief and were already looking forward to a new face in the pulpit.

  When
everyone was gone, sunshine slanting through stained glass cast rainbows on Ken and Judy as they walked up and down between the empty pews, returning hymnals and Bibles to the racks and gathering up discarded bulletins.

  “Just think, when my notice is up, we will never do this again,” Ken said.

  “Are you feeling sad about it?” Judy asked.

  “Not really. It hasn’t quite sunk in, yet,” he said. “You know, we will need to find a new church home after my retirement.”

  “I hadn’t thought about that!” Judy said, dropping onto a pew. “Where will we go? I don’t suppose we could keep worshiping here, if we promise not to interfere...”

  “Of course not. That wouldn’t be fair to the new minister. It’s hard enough to earn the trust and support of a new congregation without the previous pastor hanging around. No, we should probably transfer our membership to the Tillamook Presbyterian Church, as it’s the closest.”

  “What about the girls?” Judy asked. “Will they be able to stay active in the youth group here with their friends?”

  “That’s something we will have to discuss with them, I guess. I would like them to attend church with us, of course, but they will be going off to college soon, so they may want to stay here for the next few months. We can talk about it this afternoon over dinner.”

  *

  Back at the manse, Judy arranged a golden roast chicken on a colorful bed of root vegetables, wiped her hands and asked Paisley to carry the platter through to the dining room table. Judy followed with a basket of freshly baked multi-grain rolls, which she placed between a steaming bowl of mushroom risotto and a fruit salad.

  As soon as everyone was seated and Ken said the blessing, Paisley and Astilbe began to ask their parents about Ken’s announcement in church that morning.

  “When did you decide to retire, Dad?” Paisley asked at the same time Astilbe was saying, “You’re not sick are you, Dad?”

  “One at a time, girls,” Ken replied. “Your mother and I made the decision this week, but I’ve been thinking about retiring for months. I’ve been preaching for over thirty years and I’m ready for a change. And, no, there’s nothing wrong with me.”