A Dickens of a Crime

by Phyllis H Moore

  “Yes, me too. I had no idea. Did Miranda follow up with something that concerned you?”

  “How did you know she texted me?”

  “I’m not sure, sometimes I have a notion. Did she?”

  Well, yes, she just didn’t want you to be alarmed by what she said. It made me think there was something to be alarmed about.”

  “I see. I understand what Miranda was saying. All she wants is for me to keep my ears open and report anything suspicious. In fact, Jean and I have something we’ll get with the police about in the morning.”

  “Yes, exactly. And Mom, I fear that puts you in danger.”

  “You know, Dorie, I have confidence in law enforcement getting to the bottom of Lena’s murder. This crime will be solved. I’m sure of that.” Meg was leery of saying more over the phone. She wondered if her phone could have been tapped. She had no idea what made her think it.

  “Let the police deal with this investigation. I think you’re right, Mom. They’ll solve this.”

  “That’s just what I intend to do, sweetie. Now, I do have the responsibility of the work of accepting documents for the rare historic book room at the library. The board is counting on me, so that’s where I’ll put my focus. I intend to have that done before spring. I also have the fundraiser for the Blue Santa.

  “Blue Santa? Have you done anything for that before? I don’t remember hearing that name.”

  Meg chuckled. “Sounds funny doesn’t it, like Santa’s sad or something, but it’s a great project with the police department. They identify families in the community needing help with Christmas gifts for needy children and accept donations at the station. Volunteers help get the gifts wrapped, and you’re welcome to help.”

  “That sounds like a worthy endeavor, more like something I’m used to you doing. I can’t tell you how much better I’ll sleep tonight knowing your home and okay.”

  “Okay, sweetie, Goodnight.”

  Meg hung up and glanced at LaRue. She tried to ease Dorie’s mind by shifting the focus to the other ideas she had. By working in the rare book room at the library, she and Jean could discuss ideas and use a private phone. If she assisted with Blue Santa, she’d have a reason for frequent visits to the police station for gift delivery.

  When she had showered, Meg had an intuition, and she decided to follow it. Something told her, the telephone might be tapped. She couldn’t identify why she felt that way, but she had the feeling before. The number of missed calls there also made her suspicious.

  The next order of business would be to see what was on her answering machine. Five of the messages were from Dorie, each one more frantic than the last. There were several messages from Jean, though luckily, she never mentioned the reason for the calls, only that she wanted to speak with Meg as soon as possible. Detective Crawford had left two messages, each asking her to contact her the following day. The remainder of the messages were hang-ups, all from the same number with a Dallas area code. Meg planned to let Detective Crawford know about the number, thinking she might be able to identify the caller.

  As Meg washed her mug and wiped the kitchen counter, the phone rang again. It was Jean on the caller I.D.

  “Hello Jean, I was just going to contact you about the meeting at the library tomorrow morning.”

  “Meg? Well, I’d forgotten all about that. Let me check my calendar. I don’t think I wrote it down.”

  “Nine o’clock in the morning, Jean. The reason I was going to call was to remind you to bring those papers we talked about this evening. The rest of the committee wants to review them to determine if they’re appropriate to include with the other historical artifacts. I know you’re tired of carrying them around, so this might be your opportunity to get some relief.”

  Meg could sense Jean trying to decipher her comments, but she was confident her friend understood.

  “Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow, then. I look forward to it. I hope you’ll back me up with that committee.”

  Meg giggled. “I’ll do my best. See you then. Goodnight.” Jean and I may be enjoying this sleuthing a little too much.

  Scurrying to her chair in the living room, Meg couldn’t wait to make notes for the day. She also wanted to jot down ideas about the code words and care they needed to take while communicating by telephone. Meg intended to run all her ideas by Detective Crawford; she would meet with her after she was able to get Giselle’s note from Jean.

  They had hugged both of the twins before leaving the cafeteria after the funeral. That had to have been when Giselle slipped the note into Jean's bag. Meg didn’t think it could have been before that.

  Her legal pad was almost full. Maybe I should hide it. If someone could enter her house to tap her phone, they might also search for any notes she had.

  As Meg prepared for bed, she determined the economy-sized box of panty liners under her bathroom sink was more than large enough to conceal a legal pad. She never thought bladder leakage would come in handy.

  Recalling the conversation with Miranda made her think of Hal, the sleaze ball. Before she pushed the legal pad down into the box, she made a note that Tom had entrusted his car to Hal while he was AWOL. That didn’t sit right with Meg; she intended to find out more about their relationship. Tom had wanted her to know it was a friendship he wouldn’t have chosen except for the investigation.

  Before heading to her own bedroom, Meg checked the guest room, opening the closet and looking inside. She pushed the clothing aside to check the floor and glanced at the shelves. The closet held a few items of clothing Dorie was donating and a couple of wigs on Styrofoam heads. Meg had worn the wigs years earlier during chemotherapy. No intruders. She double-checked the other rooms before turning out the lights.

  The bed was a welcome feeling, but Meg tossed and turned, trying to shut her mind off. She laughed aloud when it occurred to her that being one step away from adult diapers might keep her confidential notes secure, then she heard LaRue scampering in from the kitchen to check on her. She had one last thought before falling asleep with LaRue at the foot of the bed. It was Hal that rammed my car. I’m sure of it.

  EIGHTEEN

  JEAN WAS WAITING near the checkout desk, seated in one of several overstuffed leather chairs, when Meg entered the library. She gathered her purse and shopping bag to join Meg, and they walked down a long corridor to the rare books room. Meg had her keys in her hand, waving at the woman at the checkout desk, one of her former employees.

  They whispered in hushed tones as they approached the floor-to-ceiling double doors at the end of the hall. The rare book room was Meg’s favorite area of the library, the aroma of the old pages taking her to another place. She was glad there was a telephone in the room, placed there for people who often used the room for research. She immediately picked up the receiver and called Dorie.

  “Sweetie, I’m at the library with Jean. You understand I was trying to avoid anyone overhearing our conversation last night, right?”

  “Yes, Mom, I got that, but do you really think that’s a concern? It seems a little paranoid. Should I be worried? I almost called you back and told you to come spend the night.”

  “I don’t think we can be too careful, but don’t be alarmed. I took precautions and locked doors, but I’m not worried.”

  Dorie breathed into the phone. “So, let me get this straight. You really don’t have any intention of giving up this investigation?”

  “No, I don’t. I’m going to be smart about this. I’m going to the police station from here to take some evidence that Jean and I discussed yesterday. So just know that any discussion we have may have our code word imbedded and you need to be on your toes.” Meg was confident in her plan and had a newfound conviction.

  “Even after what Miranda shared, you’re going to pursue this?”

  “Especially after what Miranda said. I want to take these people down. If you’d been at that funeral, you’d know why Jean and I are so determined. And there are girls your age at risk here, Dorie.
Jean and I are sure of it. They trust us, and we think we can help them.”

  “Mom, they’re hardly girls. They’re almost middle-aged women. Okay, I guess you know what you’re doing. Be sure to keep that detective in the loop. You may need her. Let me know if there’s anything I can do. I don’t know what it’d be, but if you think of anything, let me know.”

  “Middle-aged? No way. You’re all in your thirties. I may be calling you from this phone, so if this number comes up, that’s where I am.”

  “That’s good to know. You stay safe and check in with me, give me a clue that you’re okay. You remember the code word for ‘trouble’ or ‘contact’ me is ‘macramé,’ right?” Dorie said.

  “How could I forget that? Though I hope there are no occasions to use it. Bye, sweetie.”

  Meg rolled her eyes at the mention of macramé. It was something that haunted her attempts to be crafty. She had since sold rolls of jute rope in a family garage sale.

  Jean had the note spread in front of her on the table when Meg ended the call. “I wish we could make a copy of this before we give it to Detective Crawford.”

  Meg held her finger in the air, then picked up the keys and went to a tall door. She unlocked it and swung it open to reveal a small copy machine. “This is normally reserved for the elite researchers, but I think this one copy won’t hurt. Besides, it’s for a good cause.”

  “Oh, I never knew what was behind that door. That’ll be mighty handy. We might want to reread this and look for clues.” Jean waved Giselle’s note at Meg.

  “I agree.” Meg filled Jean in on her concerns that her phone might be tapped. Jean had joked about it before but thought it was a stretch. “I’ve been thinking about that note. Giselle had to have slipped it in your bag as we were leaving the funeral if the injury to her arm happened the evening before the funeral as she says in the note.”

  “You’re right. I hadn’t thought about the timing,” Jean agreed.

  “We have to be visible in our volunteer work, Jean, scurrying around and having a reason to meet with Crawford. I think the Blue Santa project would be a great excuse.”

  “Excellent. I’ve been meaning to make some donations to Blue Santa. What else do we need to do here?”

  “I can’t think of anything. We’ll let Detective Crawford be our lead from here.”

  “So let’s go get some toys.” Jean rubbed her hands together.

  Meg enjoyed the shopping trip to the toy store. The downtown street was decorated for the holidays, putting her in the spirit of the season. She missed playing Santa for Dorie.

  “Let’s get a bicycle.” Meg admired the basket on the handlebars of a bright pink bicycle.

  “Are you kidding? I have grandkids to buy for. I was just going to get some games and books.”

  “Well, I’m getting bicycles.” Meg clapped her hands together and studied a cranberry red bike.

  The store employees put large red bows on Meg’s purchase, and she had them take photos of her and Jean surrounded by the toys. “We’ll have someone come pick this stuff up later today,” Meg assured. “By the way, has anyone approached you about giving a donation for the cause?”

  The store manager agreed to wrap any purchase made at the store for Blue Santa and donate 25 percent of the total number of purchases at their store if the gifts could be picked up.

  “Wonderful! That’s a most generous offer. I’ll have to verify pickup with the chief, but I’ll get back to you if it’s okay.” Meg was delighted, as getting the gifts wrapped was always a chore. She would even pick up the gifts if the chief couldn’t spare a patrol officer.

  Meg was thrilled to be able to take good news to Detective Crawford. She took the store manager’s card and promised there would be photos and publicity in the newspaper for her efforts.

  Seated at Detective Crawford’s desk with Styrofoam cups of coffee, Meg and Jean detailed their donations from the Main Street Toy Store. The detective secured a commitment from the chief to have a patrol officer make daily stops at the store to pick up any wrapped packages. Detective Crawford called the newspaper while Meg motioned to her about the bicycles and showed her the pictures on her phone. “We may need to take the van over,” Crawford said into her phone.

  “I need to be seen as visibly involved in this project,” Meg whispered. “It’ll give me a reason to make frequent trips into your office.” Meg was feeling a new found self-assurance in being able to direct something. It could be a win-win for her and law enforcement.

  Detective Crawford grinned and shook her head, giving Meg a thumbs-up. “You’re pretty sly, Mrs. Miller. This is the perfect ploy and will also get donations for Blue Santa. Margie White is the chair this year, but I’ll give her a heads-up that you’ll be in some photos. She won’t mind.”

  “I know Margie. Let’s get her in the photos too.”

  “I’m sure that can be arranged.”

  Jean pulled the note from her purse and gave it to the detective.

  “This is worrisome,” Crawford said once she finished reading. We have some other surveillance that leads us to similar concerns. What are you thinking, Mrs. Miller?”

  “Please, call me Meg. I’ve only heard tell about this, but my first thoughts go to human trafficking. Could that be possible?”

  “That’s exactly what our concerns are,” Detective Crawford agreed. “I don’t want you to put yourself in harm’s way, but if you have any further contact with this young lady, please let me know.” Crawford was addressing Meg and Jean.

  “Oh, could you check out this number on the bottom of the note and let me know where it originates?

  “Wait a minute. There were several calls on my answering machine last night, all hang-ups. The area code is the same.”

  “We can run down a number, determine if it’s a cell, and do a check.” Detective Crawford glanced at her phone and typed a brief response.

  “That would be great.”

  “The newspaper photographer can be here in about fifteen minutes, and Margie will be stopping by,” Crawford said, looking up from her phone. “Do you think you can hang around for a few photos? The chief just texted me that he’s sending Officer Thomas to the toy store to pick up the donations, so we’ll have the bicycles here. If we do it today, the publicity can be in the paper this weekend.”

  “That’s perfect.” Meg clapped her hands together. “Thank you for being so accommodating. Jean and I will be sure to spread the word about donations. We had fun shopping this morning. I needed a little retail therapy.”

  “I think this project will work out to the benefit of everyone,” Detective Crawford laughed.

  Meg and Jean waited in plastic chairs outside the chief’s office. “You know, Jean, I had a thought about how we might be able to initiate contact with Giselle and Geneva. It’s a long shot, and I’ll have to get Dorie to go along with it, but her high school reunion is coming up, and those girls were in her class. It would give her a legitimate reason to be in touch with them.”

  “I think that’s brilliant. I would certainly understand if Dorie waves it off, but it’s the perfect excuse to call them.”

  A few minutes later, Meg walked out of the detective’s office and gave Jean a thumbs-up. “It’s all set. Dorie is actually on the committee planning the reunion and will be in charge of contacting several of the girls in her class.”

  Meg sat quietly for a few minutes before the photographer showed up. She was having second thoughts about involving Dorie. It was one thing for her to immerse herself in the investigation, but to involve Dorie might be going too far.

  “You okay, Meg?”

  “You think we’re doing the right thing, Jean?”

  “Absolutely. I have no doubt. If it were Dorie, you would want someone to work as diligently to protect her. Think of those girls as your flesh and blood. Their mother’s gone, so we need to step in and make sure they can be safe.” Jean was adamant in her response. “The other thing is, if there’s any chance that th
e HAH brotherhood out there isn’t on the up-and-up, I’ll be happy to be involved in exposing them and shutting them down. I sincerely hope it’s not true, but if it is, get out of my way.”

  “That’s what I needed to hear,” Meg said.

  The chief joined them for photos after Officer Thomas rolled the bicycles into the foyer. Meg was proud to stand behind them, and the toy store staff had done a wonderful job fluffing the large red bows on the handle-bars.

  Meg had a positive feeling about the plans to establish contacts with the twins. Something told her they were the key to the larger crime, the connection to the church’s involvement. They were possibly victims also.

  .

  NINETEEN

  LUNCH WAS A chicken salad sandwich at the counter in the downtown pharmacy. Meg and Jean made sure the servers heard them chatting about the Blue Santa project and solicited commitments from fellow diners to provide donations.

  Jean walked Meg to her car, and they agreed that a follow-up visit to the bereaved widower might be a nice touch. At Jean’s mention of a chocolate pound cake in her freezer, Meg batted her eyes. “There’s nothing like a couple of widows plying the most recent town widower with chocolate to obtain information.”

  “Well, you’ll have to be the one to flirt, Meg. I just can’t even bring myself to pretend with that man. Follow me to my house. We can have a cup of tea while the cake thaws.”

  They had confirmed that the number on Meg’s answering machine was indeed Giselle’s. Meg sat at Jean’s kitchen bar, staring at the copy of the note they had given Detective Crawford.

  “This is sad, Jean. When you think about her pleading and all those phone calls. She seems desperate. This part about not telling her dad and saying he’s part of the problem, what do you suppose that’s about?”

  Jean looked over Meg’s shoulder, stirring a hot cup of tea. “I have no answers. It’s hard to believe people live those kinds of lives, fearful and on edge. What do you suppose motivates Brian?”

  “I don’t have a clue. Judging by the funeral, his relationship with Lena, his associates, and so on, I’d guess his motivation is greed and an attempt to be young and desirable again. He’s one of those people who needs attention. I never noticed his family when we were growing up, but he was always in the spotlight with athletics in school.