Secret Keepers and Skinny Shadows: Lee and Miranda

by Mary A Russell

  The man nodded taking a seat at the table.

  “So, what do you know?” Lee asked.

  Derrick looked over both shoulders. “You can never be too careful,” he said. “I must be quick, and leave before they catch me talking to you. But they probably already know I’m here.

  You see, Clay and Cain Bliss were my cousins. Cain is dead now, but Clay is alive. He still runs part of this town and he is remains tied to the mafia. Something else, he’s as nasty and mean as he ever was. At the time of the Grayson murder they had their tentacles wrapped around the policemen, detectives and every official in this city.”

  Lee interrupted. “I don’t understand how Cain and Clay could gain that much influence and power. Was it their connection to the mob?”

  “You would understand if you knew the power of the mob and the corrupt police at that time,” Derrick said.

  “I think I’m beginning to get it. We were visited by a policeman today,” Lee said.

  “You might not be aware that Cain was killed in a work accident in Maryland in the fall of the year of the murder, and Mr. Merritt was someone involved with the Mafia as a money runner. His death was called an accident by the Bridgetown police, if they’re to be believed. If you follow the trail of Mr. Merritt, you will find the information you’re looking for.”

  Derrick looked around nervously. “Now I have to leave,” he got up and hurried out the door.

  As they watched him exit the building, Lee said, “Do you believe that? People are popping up everywhere we go with information about this murder.”

  “Wow. What did we get into?” Miranda said.

  “We should head back to the mansion,” Lee said, we have a lot of research ahead of us. It’s pretty interesting that Clay Bliss is still alive.”

  They paid the bill and got back into the car.

  Lee looked at the sky as he was driving. “Look at those clouds rolling in from the mountains. They look like snow clouds. I hope it doesn’t snow. I hate the snow. And it is a lot colder up here than I thought it would be. I didn’t bring a heavy jacket.”

  “You can borrow one of Adrian’s jackets,” Miranda said. “He’ll be gone for three weeks on vacation. We do get some of our heaviest snows in March, so we could be in for one.”

  Lee glanced at Miranda and held her gaze. “Thanks for the offer, but if I need a jacket I can go buy one.”

  He smirked at her and turned back to driving. The storm worried him, snow was one of the big reasons he lived in the south. Miranda start to work on the case. “The guy Lilly talks about at the cleaners was a black man who was in and out of prison for petty robberies. The cleaners and the house where Lilly lived with George have both been torn down, an expressway runs through the property now.”

  Lee nodded to show he was listening.

  “Well, one thing we know for sure after reading the letters, Lilly didn’t trust the police then, and we shouldn’t trust them now,” Lee said.

  “After our visit from Winslow, I agree with you.”

  “I think it’s a crying shame, that you no longer have access to the FBI website. It might make it faster to find some of this stuff.”

  With a heavy sigh, Miranda said, “Lee, are you complaining already? You’re a bottom feeder living on other people’s information. Think of all we’ve learned that wasn’t in the letters or the newspapers.”

  “Well, that might be true, but when the book I’m going to write revealing everything we have and will learn about this murder is published, you won’t think I’m such a bottom feeder then.”

  As Lee pulled the car into the driveway, he could see a woman standing on the front porch waving at them.

  “Who’s that?”

  “From here it looks like my cousin Nancy from Bridgetown. I wonder what she wants. She never comes around unless it’s to gossip,” Miranda said.

  “Well, we could use some gossip right now. It might be good information.”

  “Hi, Nancy,” Miranda called as she closed the car door.

  “Miranda! Who’s your handsome friend? I haven’t met him.” She smiled at Lee, he smiled back.

  “Hello, Nancy, I’m Lee.”

  “What an unexpected visit,” Miranda said. “Come in. It’s cold out here.”

  “Yeah, it looks like it’s going to snow,” Lee said.

  “What brings you out my way, Nancy?”

  “It’s all over town that you and this handsome fella are looking into the Grayson murder.”

  “Oh, great. Just what we wanted hear,” Miranda said.

  “I wanted to add my two cents. Miranda, you were probably too busy with school and the boys to remember Ron Grayson who died of a heart attack at age forty-five. He had been nosing around the Bridgetown Police Department trying to dig up information, but he kept running into brick walls. And then, suddenly he died from a heart attack.” Nancy took her glasses off, rubbed her eyes, and put the glasses back on, resting them on a nose too tiny to hold them up, her close set blue eyes twinkled as she talked.

  “That’s it?” Lee said. “Didn’t the family check on the information they were given?”

  “Not as far as any of us could find out,” Nancy said. “The few brave souls who did speak up were soon squashed by the rest of them.”

  “It makes me wonder about some of the family, and if they were involved in the murder,” Lee said.

  “Nancy, did you ever hear of a Lillian Grace, who was in love with Bert?” Miranda said.

  “No. Oh my goodness, that sounds too delicious. I don’t remember ever hearing anything about her. I don’t have time right now to hear the story, but I’ll come back, I want you to tell me all about it, Miranda. Right now I have to be going. It was nice to see you.” She looked over at Lee, “and your handsome friend. I hope my information helped.”

  “Oh, it did Nancy every bit helps,” Miranda said as she walked Nancy to the door and said her goodbyes.

  “With each new person we talk with, we get a better idea of what Bert was like. Now we just need someone to tell us about Lillian,” Lee said.

  CHAPTER 17

  Present Day

  Lee picked up his papers to move his reading into the computer room to be close to Miranda. After ten minutes he realized what a mistake that was. The smell of her perfume was intoxicating. He was having trouble concentrating on the notes. All he wanted to do was grab her and take her to bed.

  “Okay, let’s get back to Lilly. Is she paranoid or is she frightened of Clay and the police?” He said.

  “It would be interesting to find out if the police department still has links with the crime syndicate,” she said.

  “Lilly has sucked me into her world, I’m right there with her in 1962, experiencing her emotions. What a terrible life she lived,” he said.

  Miranda stopped what she was doing and turned around, crossed both her arms and legs, then with a gentle lifting she bounced her foot up and down. She always looked Lee straight in the eyes when she talked to him. Her eyes were men killers. “Yes,” Miranda said, “she pulls on the heart strings.” Lee tried to shake Miranda’s eyes out of my head by getting back into the conversation.

  “Do you know where they buried Bert?”

  “Yes, it was on his military record,” she said. “The cemetery is a short drive from here. Why?”

  “I’d like to check out this one bit of information. Lilly writes that Hap is buried too close to Bert’s grave. We could go to the cemetery and find out if she knows what she’s talking about.”

  Miranda stood grabbing her purse and keys in one swift motion.

  “Good idea. Let’s go.”

  They put on their coats, got into Miranda’s car, and drove south. Lee continued to pick Miranda’s brain about the information in the letters.

  “The key, Miranda. We need to find the key to her deposit box.”

  “I know, me to, but right now we’re checking this information, we’ll work on the key when we get back to the house.”

&nbs
p; “Okay, fair enough. Lilly mentioned in one of the letters a couple watching TV was shot by a kid. Was there anything about that in the papers?”

  “That’s a good question, Lee. There were different accounts of murders in the newspapers. Some of the people interviewed said the couple ran a drug and prostitution house that the police protected. They said some of the policemen split the money it brought in. Of course, the police denied those comments saying the people making those statements were drug users making up lies to get back at the police department.”

  “Well, you know what, Lilly could be right,” Lee said. “The corruption in the police department could run into high places. But the bigger question in my mind is why do you think Lilly blamed herself for Bert’s murder?”

  “I don’t know. I thought about that as well, she makes the statement more than once by repeating it several times in the letters, here we are.”

  A long neglected cemetery came into view on the right she turned the car onto the grass and gravel rutted road. Numerous head stones had fallen over, some were almost hidden by the tall grass. Some of the grave markers were starting to slide down into the river that ran behind the forgotten place.

  She stopped the car, they got out not knowing where to look for Bert’s headstone.

  “Kid, you go in that direction, I’ll go this way.”

  Miranda nodded wading through the tall grass and weeds, in a few minutes she called out.

  “It’s over here.” As he approached the spot, he could see her eyes scanning the Grayson tombstone.

  “Look over there.” His eyes followed her raised arm in the direction of the road. There it was—Hap Mill’s headstone.

  They walked over to where Hap was buried, which was about ten feet from Bert’s grave.

  “His real name was Hap and he was a lot older than Lilly,” Miranda said.

  Kneeling he spread open the tall grass to read what was carved on the stone. “This guy was born in 1890 and died a few years after Bert. So he didn’t serve in the army with Bert; Maybe Lilly lived only lived with Hap but didn’t marry him after she divorced George the first time. Think about it, back then who would know the difference?”

  “Lilly must have had someone bring her here since she didn’t drive,” Miranda said.

  He stood and made his way over to where Miranda was standing.

  “I’m not sure about that theory. She could have sent someone to this cemetery to check out Bert’s grave while at the same time putting flowers on it for her. They could have told her that Hap was buried behind Bert.”

  “True. But I still believe she was here. I can sense it.”

  He stared at her.

  “Oh, come on, what kind of a detective are you? Agatha Christie would be ashamed of you.” She looked at him.

  “Oh, really, Mr. Smarty Pants. I don’t think so. A lot of times her detectives went on a gut feeling in their investigations, and they usually turned out to be right.”

  He cringed as Miranda’s eyes turned to cold slits again shivering, at the same time thinking he wouldn’t want to get into a real fight with her.

  They tromped back to the car, as Lee opened the door he stopped and scanned the area. Who’s watching us, and where are they? Miranda paused as well. He could hear the water rushing over the river rocks and squawking birds flying over their heads. In the distance, on the far side of the wheat field at the edge of the woods, two deer stood with their heads pointed straight at Lee. He turned his head back to the river as a man dressed in hunting clothes with a shotgun cocked over his arm pushed his way through the tall weeds and up the riverbank. He was moving in their direction.

  “I been watching you two. What are you doing here?”

  “Well, who are you and why do you want to know?” Lee said with a steady gaze, while moving between the man and Miranda.

  “My name is Ron Alley. I was told there was a stranger in town nosing around about the Grayson murder. I don’t know either of you,” Ron said as he stared at Miranda.

  She closed her car door and walked toward Ron. At that moment Lee stepped in front of her saying, “well, that makes two of us. I don’t know you either. So, Ron, who told you there was a stranger in town asking about the Grayson murder?”

  “The people of this town don’t want the Grayson murder stirred up. I’m warning you. You’re getting into something dangerous.” By this time Lee was in Ron’s face. Ron took a few steps back.

  “We aren’t looking for trouble, Ron, just answers,” Lee said.

  Ron shifted his weight while moving his gun to his other arm.

  “Whatever you’re looking for, I encourage you to stop. Leave the murder alone. It happened a long time ago. Leave it alone. You might find out something you don’t want to know.”

  “Do you mean like maybe the name of the person or persons who bumped off Grayson?” Lee said, holding Ron’s gaze.

  Ron started to open his mouth to say something, then stopped. He turned his back on Lee as he started walking toward the river forging the water then up the bank on the other side. They watched as he disappeared into the tall grass.

  The dark clouds forming overhead smelled like snow.

  “What do you make of that?”

  “I don’t know, but someone has spread the word that we’re looking into the murder,” Lee said.

  “As far as I know the only people who knew were the police.”

  Lee rubbed his eyebrows. “How about all those people you talked to after you read the letters, Kid?”

  “Well, them, too, I guess. But I didn’t tell them we were going to investigate the murder. I only told them I had the letters and what they said.”

  Lee looked at Miranda.

  They got into the car heading in the direction of the mansion.

  On the drive back, Lee couldn’t get Adrian out of his mind. He left this morning, Miranda said he would be gone for three weeks on a long deserved vacation. Adrian told Lee he would never leave Miranda alone in the mansion, he wondered why.

  CHAPTER 18

  Present Day

  Back at Miranda’s mansion, an intruder jimmied the sliding door leading into Lee’s room and slipped inside. He spent twenty minutes in the mansion, as he finished his mission he exited the same way he came in.

  CHAPTER 19

  Present Day

  Back at the mansion, Lee stood in the doorway of the computer room clearing his throat. “I don’t know about Lilly,” he said, stepping across the threshold. “I wonder if she had anything to do with Bert’s murder. She says several times in her letters that it was her fault, that she could have prevented the murder. I don’t know if I trust her. She writes that she only likes tall men, but her husband George was only five feet six inches tall, she said she wouldn’t marry a man who drinks and beats women. George did both.” Lee gave Miranda a quizzical stare.

  “There are a lot of inconsistencies in the letters. She repeats herself often, but that may be because of her state of mind; she did tell Elizabeth that she forgets what she said from one letter to the next, and she’s still under a doctor’s care. These are the kind of things that make me think she’s a nut case, but I’m willing to wait and see until we’ve researched all this information,” Lee said. “If only we could find one person who she said she gave a copy of the first five chapters of the book to. There must be other letters out there somewhere.”

  “Finding the other copies may fill in some the holes in this investigation,” Miranda said. “Why does she keep bringing up Mr. Merritt, as Derrick did?”

  “How can we follow the trail of Mr. Merritt when we can’t find out anything about him?” Lee said.

  “Derrick must think we can or why would he have said that,” Miranda said.

  “How could Lilly have known all these people? I get the feeling when reading her letters that she lives in fear for her life.”

  Miranda stared at Lee as he talked, while tapping her fingers on the desk.

  “I agree. And why do you thi
nk she flits around from subject to subject? She does it in all her letters,” Miranda said.

  “Okay, I’m pretty sure this is the way it went. Lilly started to write a letter, stopped to do something else, after a couple hours or maybe even days she came back to write again. Then she’d put in the letter what she’s been doing between writing sessions,” Lee said.

  “Okay,” Miranda said.

  “Did you do any checking on this niece who was fighting with Bert, trying to buy the land from him?”

  “I couldn’t find out anything,” she said. “We’ll have to wait and ask Jane about the niece.”

  There was a loud knock at the door Miranda ran to answer it, Lee heard her sigh as she opened the door.

  “Winslow, what do you want?”

  “Now, Miranda, is that anyway to talk to me. Where’s your manners?”

  Hearing the conversation Lee moved toward the door.

  “Hello, Winslow, what brings you here?”

  “May I come in, or are you going to make me stand out here all day?”

  “Well, I guess if you have to, come in and have a seat.” Miranda stepped back to let him by.

  “Now, that’s more like it, Miranda.”

  “Since you’re here, Winslow, I have some questions for you,” Lee said.

  “Okay. Hope I have the right answers.”

  “It seems that everyone in town knows we are looking into the Grayson murder,” Lee said.

  “Yes, it’s all anyone can talk about.”

  “Do you know anything about the police department at the time of the murder?” Lee asked.

  “Would you be honest enough to tell us the truth?” Miranda added.

  “I know a lot about it,” Winslow said. “I do the history research for the department.”

  “Great. Could you tell us what you know about a Detective Elway?”

  “What do you want to know?”

  “Was he gay, for instance?” Lee asked.

  “Well, I don’t want to comment on someone’s personal life, but it was always suspected that Elway and three other detectives were. Everyone throughout the department and the town suspected, but in those days no one talked about it or admitted to it. Things like that were hushed up. It was rumored that Elway made a pass at Bert and he beat Elway up almost killing him. Then for revenge Elway set Bert up to be murdered. That theory makes perfect sense to me, but proving it is another thing.”