A Dickens of a Crime

by Phyllis H Moore

  “I can surely understand. He’s very boisterous. I’ve only ever seen him from a distance recently, but I remember him from school. He was in your class, wasn’t he?”

  “Jim’s class, I think. And I would agree with that description.”

  “I’d say he has a body odor issue.” Rita pinched her nose with her fingers.

  Meg giggled. “I’ve never been close enough to find out. All of my contact with him has been over the telephone, but I’ve heard that.”

  Hal had probably seen Tom’s car parked behind the library and noticed hers. He might be getting suspicious. She remembered that Tom had mentioned leaving his car with Hal, wondering why he’d do that since the body odor was such a thing. She scratched her head as she sat behind the wheel of her own car, staring out in front of her at the droplets of rain on the windshield.

  Meg clicked the wipers on preparing to leave then jumped when someone rapped on her window. She turned to see Hal’s face staring at her through the mist, motioning with his hand for her to roll down the window. She cracked it just enough to hear what he had to say.

  “Hey, Meg. I didn’t mean to scare you. Can I get in and talk to you?”

  “I’m on my way to the pharmacy for a chicken salad sandwich, Hal. I’m starving. Meet me there and you can buy me lunch.”

  Meg rolled up the window and turned her head to back out of the parking space. After reversing and turning back to face the front of the car, she saw Hal still standing at the parking space in the increasing rain. He held his palms in the air and she waved for him to follow and drove off. She wasn’t looking forward to sharing lunch with him, but she wasn’t going to allow him to manipulate her into a situation where they were alone either. Why hadn’t he stopped Tom? She had a gut instinct about Hal, and it wasn’t good.

  The first to arrive at the pharmacy, Meg took the corner booth. It was the only vacant space besides the counter, and she would rather sit across from Hal than beside him, if he indeed decided to follow her.

  “The usual, Meg?” Billy Rawls called to her from the counter.

  “Yes, Billy, please, but add a cup of that chicken noodle soup. It’s starting to rain, and soup sounds good.”

  “Sure thing.”

  Meg was looking at her text messages when Hal arrived, dripping wet as he stood at the end of the table.

  “Have a seat, Hal. Don’t you have an umbrella?”

  “I didn’t intend to be out in the weather,” he shot back at her. “I also didn’t intend to come down here. I’ve already eaten a late breakfast. I don’t know why you continue to eat at this place?” He scowled at Meg, taking his cap off and running his hands through his curly, sand-colored hair.

  “I enjoy the nostalgia of a lunch counter and the food’s delicious. It reminds me of my childhood. You wanted to talk to me, right Hal? So, have a seat and get on with it. You don’t really have to buy my lunch. I don’t expect it.”

  “You’re bossier than I remember,” he said before sliding into the booth.

  “It’s about time, don’t you think? I’m one of those liberated women you hear about. I decide when and where I’ll carry on a conversation. So what are we going to converse about?”

  Billy approached the table with Meg’s lunch, sliding the toasted chicken salad sandwich in front of her, and setting a small cup of soup beside it. He put a teaspoon down before handing Meg a tall glass of iced tea from the tray. “Anything else for you, Meg?”

  “No, thanks, Billy, this’ll do. That soup smells delish.”

  “Wide noodles. Beverly’s homemade recipe. How about you, sir? What can I get for you?” Billy looked to Hal, smiling.

  “Well, I guess I’m going to have to try that soup, but I’d like a bowl if you have it. And I’ll have some tea with that.”

  Billy walked off, and Hal turned his attention back to Meg.

  “What the hell are you doing?” he said, clenching his jaw. “I saw you and Tom go into the library this morning. Are you having follow-up meetings about the festival without an agenda?”

  Meg stared at him wide-eyed. “There have been no meetings that I know of about the festival. I don’t think all the bills have been turned in yet. You know we don’t normally meet on that until after the first of the year.” She took the time to add sugar to her tea and stir it slowly, suspecting Hal was just worried about festival financial business.

  “I’m working with Tom and Jean on accepting some rare book donations at the library. You know Jean, don’t you?”

  “I know who she is, but that’s neither here nor there. You shouldn’t be discussing any financial details about the festival until all receipts are in.”

  “I’ll take your advice on that, Hal. I guess our conversation is over, then?”

  “What are you trying to do?” Hal was still aggitated.

  Billy set a bowl of soup in front of Hal, along with his tea.

  “Hal,” Meg whispered, leaning toward him, “I do volunteer work to keep me occupied in retirement. I have several projects going on right now, and I’m enjoying them. I don’t think I have to explain myself to you.” She took a sip of her sweetened tea and then began to eat the steaming soup. “You’re going to like that soup.” Meg pointed to the bowl in front of Hal.

  “How can you be so coy and flip with me?”

  “I tell you what, Hal. I haven’t had an extended conversation with you in a long time. We’ve had brief phone contacts here and there, but as far as really talking with you, it just hasn’t happened. I’m beginning to understand why. I have no idea what you’re so bothered about. You care to explain yourself?”

  “You know what I’m talking about, Meg. You know damn well what I’m talking about.” The vein above Hal’s right eye bulged.

  Meg thought he might be alluding to Giselle having tea with her, and/or he might have suspicions about Tom’s role in the community, but she wasn’t going to give in and respond to his questioning. She didn’t want to admit it, but she was enjoying his frustration a little more than she should.

  She continued to eat while Hal stared at her. She chewed and wiped her mouth, looking up at him and smiling every once and a while. Finally, Meg said, “If you’re buying, Hal, I believe I’ll have a piece of pie and some coffee.”

  He threw his napkin down on the table. “I’m not buying. I never said I’d buy your lunch. I might’ve considered it if you could be a little more respectful, but not now.”

  “Oh shoot, I told Billy you were buying. I’ll have to dip into my grocery money. I guess I’ll pass on the pie, then.” Meg opened her wallet and put some bills on the table. “That should cover mine,” she said, standing and pulling the strap of her purse over her shoulder. She closed her eyes at the unexpected whiff of Hal’s body odor.

  “So nice to chat with you, Hal.” She leaned toward him slightly and whispered, “I have the number of a nice therapist who can help you get that temper under control. Call me for it, though. I don’t plan to be having lunch with you again for a long while.”

  Hal’s face reddened. “I didn’t want to have lunch with you in the first place,” He called out after Meg as she walked away.

  Customers at the counter turned and stared at Hal, and she smiled. There was something freeing about not caring what they thought.

  Meg made feverish notes when she got home about her encounter with Hal. He was clearly worried, but he didn’t say exactly what he was worried about. He couldn’t without giving her information. He wasn’t very smart, but he was just smart enough not to allow her to lead him into talking too much.

  She was thinking about their conversation when the phone rang. She heard a click that hadn’t been there before and assumed it was part of the tapping program.

  As she picked up the phone, Meg walked across to the kitchen door and let LaRue out.

  “Oh, hello Brian. How are you doing?” Brian Hillard was following up on the visit he had with Meg and Jean about Lena’s belongings.

  “I’ve booked a cr
uise and will be out of town during the holidays,” he said. “I’ve thought about it and it’s probably best to get the closets cleaned out before I leave. Just couldn’t face being in this house by myself during the holidays.”

  “I can be there in the morning and get started,” Meg said. “I don’t know what Jean’s schedule is, but I’ll be happy to start packing things ups.”

  “I have a meeting of the elders in Dallas tomorrow and will be leaving early. I don’t mind you being here without me, in fact it might be better for both of us. If you can get here before I leave, I can show you the code for the garage.”

  “Sounds good. I’ll be there first thing.”

  Meg sat at the kitchen table with her legal pad in front of her after Brian hung up. She didn’t think there was any reason for them to need to search Lena’s closet, but the need for work clothing was legitimate, so she would follow up regardless.

  In a phone conversation later, Jean regretted that she had an early appointment to get her hair colored; however, she agreed to drop Meg off at Brian’s and join her there after the appointment.

  “Perfect. We can get all this over with so we can pay attention to Blue Santa and getting our own holidays organized,” Meg said, cognizant that someone might be eavesdropping on the conversation.

  A knock on her back door caught Meg by surprise. No one but Dorie came to the back door—Jean even approached the house from the front—and Meg knew it wasn’t Dorie, as she was away on a short business trip. Picking up the legal pad, she shoved it under a pile of mail-order catalogs she had stacked on the kitchen desk.

  Meg swung the back door open to Giselle standing on her back porch with LaRue in her arms.

  “Giselle! Sweetie, come in out of the rain!”

  THIRTY-ONE

  MEG COULD HARDLY breathe, listening to Giselle tell her about Hal. She had slipped out of his condo earlier in the day. Giselle explained is was actually a condo rented for her and Geneva, but Hal was almost always there. She had left him a note saying she was going back to Dallas. The young woman was soaked. She’d walked the back streets since early morning, making her way to Meg’s.

  Giselle sat on the banquette, drying her hair with a towel Meg had handed her. This is why Hal was out this morning, roaming the streets and noticing cars. He’s worried.

  “I can’t stand him,” Giselle said. “He’s manipulated me, lied to me, and now I realize it’s all for his safety and benefit, not mine or Geneva’s. Geneva was asleep when I left, or she’d have tried to talk me out of leaving. I want to talk to someone. I trust Miss Jean, but I’m afraid she’ll be disappointed in me.”

  “You’ve done the right thing coming here, sweetie. I think you should talk with Detective Crawford at the police station. She’s the one who interviewed me the day I found Lena’s body.” Meg put her hand over Giselle’s, feeling the icy cold. The girl must have been outside most of the morning. “I was distraught and anxious when I discovered Lena, and Crawford put me at ease. I think she can do the same for you.” Meg heated mugs of water to make tea.

  Giselle closed her eyes and began rocking back and forth. It gave Meg a start, worried the girl might be thinking of getting up and running out of the house. Meg watched the younger woman as her own heart began to race. She didn’t want to lose the opportunity for Giselle to tell what she knew.

  “I thought you might think I should go to the police. I guess that’s why I decided to come to you,” Giselle said, hanging her head and clutching LaRue with one hand. “I’ve known it all along. It’s just been so crazy, so crazy. I didn’t know who I could trust or what I should do.”

  Meg walked over to Giselle and put her hand on her back. “Whatever you’re going through, there are people willing to help, people you can trust. I promise you that.”

  “Those who should be leading me in the right direction have been encouraging me to do everything I shouldn’t, and there have been drugs, pills.” Giselle shook her head, tears forming and then running down her cheeks. “I finally stopped taking them a few days ago, flushing them, making Hal think I’d taken them. That’s the only reason I could think straight today.”

  Meg set a mug of tea on the table. “Am I understanding that you have information you know you should share with the police, Giselle?”

  “Yes, I do.” She cupped her icy hands around the mug.

  “Okay, I think we need to get you to the station. That’s the safest place.”

  Meg allowed Giselle to warm her hands and finish the tea then showed her to the guest bedroom and a closet where she had clothing belonging to Dorie. She encouraged Giselle to change out of the damp jeans and hoodie and into a sweater and skirt. “No one will expect to see you in this, and look.” Meg pulled a form down from the shelf in the closet with a black wig on it. “Luckily we have the excuse of umbrellas to hide your face. If Hal’s looking for you, this’ll come in handy.”

  Meg considered that Giselle might have been sent by Hal as a way to take her from the safety of her own home, but she ultimately decided to trust her instincts and Giselle. It would be a short drive to the police station, after all, and Meg was confident they could get there safely.

  Waiting until they were in the car to dial Crawford’s number, Meg let the detective know she was on the way to the station with Giselle. “She wants to make a statement, Detective.” Meg looked toward Giselle and the young woman nodded.

  “I’m on my way down,” Crawford responded. “I’ll alert Agent Richards, and we’ll send a patrol car to follow you at a distance. Don’t worry, we’ll have eyes on you.”

  Crawford’s assurances made Meg feel better as she drove with care in the pouring rain, wary of doing anything that would make Giselle change her mind. “They’ll find you a safe place to stay, sweetie. Don’t worry about anything.” Meg had let Giselle bring LaRue with them, thinking it might help the young woman to calm herself and feel relaxed. The cat sat in Giselle’s lap while being mindlessly stroked as they headed toward the station.

  “I don’t have a home any more. That’s my biggest problem. I’ve had to turn to this corrupt church for help, and they know I’m vulnerable. I have nowhere to go. That’s always been my problem, nowhere to go,” Giselle began to cry.

  “It’ll all be sorted out, I promise you that, but I would think you could go home, sweetie.” Meg cut her eyes at LaRue, wondering if Giselle’s grasp was too tight.

  “No, that’s the last place I would go,” Giselle sighed as the crying ceased. “Home is what got me into this mess. I can’t trust going home.”

  Meg hoped she was right about Crawford being able to protect Giselle. Despite behaving more rationally now, Giselle was still insisting she was in danger.

  Meg had been instructed to pull into the alley and enter the station from the secure garage at the back, where they transported prisoners. The rain pounded on the roof of the car, so loud they couldn’t continue to talk and be heard.

  An officer in a bright yellow rain slicker was waiting in the alley, tending the garage door. He waved them in, and Meg watched the door close behind her in the rearview mirror. She breathed a sigh of relief as she released her death grip on the steering wheel.

  Tom and Crawford were standing on a grated metal porch above metal stairs at the end of the dim garage, lights shining through plate glass windows behind them. Crawford walked down the stairs and toward the car.

  Meg looked toward her passenger. Giselle had released her grip on LaRue, her face calm and relaxed.

  Crawford opened Giselle’s door and helped her out of the car. Giselle handed LaRue off to her, then pulled the wig off her head and began scratching. “No offense, but that thing itches,” she laughed.

  Meg was relieved that she could still joke. She followed Giselle up the steps after taking LaRue from the detective.

  Tom took Giselle into Crawford’s office while Meg talked with the detective. “We’ll interview her and read her any rights necessary. If she requests an attorney, we’ll see wha
t we can do to get in touch with hers. Thank you for this. I don’t think we could’ve gotten this far without you.”

  Meg stroked LaRue, thinking the cat was mostly responsible for Giselle’s willingness to be forthcoming. She explained the arrangements she made earlier with Brian Hillard and Jean to go through Lena’s closets.

  “Keep that appointment, please,” Crawford said. “We don’t want anyone to notice anything’s different. I think we might already have suspicious people out there.”

  “Hal’s suspicious and probably looking for Giselle now.” Meg continued, telling Crawford about Hal confronting her earlier when she left the library. “Giselle left him a note.”

  “We’ll deal with him tonight if we have to,” Crawford assured her. “We’ll have a patrol officer cruising your street. Don’t worry about anything.”

  “Okay, thanks. That makes me feel better.” Meg wanted to talk with Tom but she knew they would be occupied with questioning Giselle.

  Sleep didn’t come easy that evening, and she would have sworn when the alarm went off she hadn’t slept a wink.

  Jean picked Meg up early the next morning.

  “My, you sure have early appointments,” Meg said, holding her second cup of coffee in a stainless tumbler and a box of large garbage bags. “I thought we might need these for anything we needed to take to the thrift store.”

  “I doubt there’ll be much of that,” Jean laughed. “Lena’s taste was fairly expensive.”

  “Brian’s glad we’re getting an early start. I told him yesterday about your appointment, and he assured me he’d be up and needing to leave the house himself.” She looked out her window. “I wish this rain would let up.”

  Jean backed down the drive while Meg brought her up to date on Giselle. “For heaven’s sake. I’m so glad she decided to ask for help. I’ve been so worried about her.”

  “She seemed in a much better frame of mind, even relieved, I’d say. She mentioned Hal giving her pills, so the drug thing might not have been her choice. I hope whatever she tells Crawford can break this case wide open and tie it all up. Oh, I caught a glimpse of some nasty bumps and bruising on her forearm when she pushed her sleeve up, but it looked like she also cuts.”