Murder and Mayhem

by Hamilton, B L

  When she reached the bridge, a soft wind ruffled through her hair as she leaned against the rail and watched boats cruise up and down the river, their navigation lights reflecting on the murky black water where a liquid moon rolled and shimmered. It was a beautiful night, filled with stars that sparkled in the black velvet sky like diamonds.

  Nicola sighed as she watched the wavering taillight of cars in the distance; and the warm glow of lights from houses along the river. The sound of music and laughter drifted up. She looked down Main Street where people were strolling along the sidewalk in pairs or groups, and felt very alone.

  Suddenly she saw a tall figure dressed in black pushing his way through people crowding the sidewalk and her face lit up. She waved her hands in the air excitedly and called out his name as she hurried up Main Street to meet him. When he looked up and saw her, Nicola laughed. She waved again, and called out his name, excited as a schoolgirl. And then she stopped. She watched him falter, turn around, and hurry back in the direction he’d come from.

  As she made her way down the sidewalk sidestepping people and dogs, the dark figure mingled with people standing outside Fran’s Pub – and disappeared.

  Nicola jostled her way into the pub past noisy drinkers and rowdy revelers, looking around. She worked her way to the bar and waited for the bartender to finish serving a woman reeling off a long list of drinks. She could sense the man standing beside her give her the once over.

  “Can I buy you a drink,” he asked as he leaned towards her. His breath reeked of stale beer and garlic. His sweaty body stank of cheap cologne, and B.O.

  Nicola drew back, gave him a weak smile, and said, “No, thank you. I’m meeting someone.”

  “Suit yourself,” the man said and turned his attention to a couple of young women jostling their way to the bar.

  “What can I get ya, love?” she heard someone ask in what seemed like a British accent.

  Nicola looked up and saw the barman standing in front of her wiping a damp cloth over the bar.

  “What…? Oh, nothing, thank you. I’m just looking for someone.” The bartender nodded and moved off.

  “Pardon me,” she called after him. “Have you seen a blond-headed man, six-foot-two wearing black jeans and a T-shirt and a black baseball cap?”

  The bartender shook his head. “No. Sorry, love, can’t say that I have. Can I get you something to drink?” he asked, the accent even more pronounced.

  “No, thank you,” Nicola said, and walked off.

  While she lingered outside the men’s restroom she heard a familiar voice behind her.

  “All right, love?”

  Nicola turned and saw the bartender coming towards her.

  “Did you find him?” he asked.

  Nicola shook her head. “Are you going in there?”

  “Want me to have a look?” the bartender asked as he pushed the door open. The handle banged loudly as it hit the wall.

  “Would you?” she asked.

  “Six-two, blond hair, wearing black jeans and a black T-shirt, right?”

  Nicola nodded. “And a black baseball cap.”

  A short time later the bartender emerged wiping his hands on a paper towel.

  “Nope. Sorry love. No one in there that fits that description,” he said as he dropped the scrunched up paper towel into a trash bin.

  “Thank you. I appreciate you taking the time.”

  “That’s okay, love. Don’t worry he’s bound to turn up sooner or later. They always do. You mark my words. No man in his right mind would leave an attractive woman alone in a place like this. Too many wolves on the loose. Believe me, I’ve seen it all.”

  “Why don’t you come back to the bar and I’ll find you a seat in the corner where I can keep the wolves at bay until your boyfriend shows up,” he offered.

  “That’s very kind of you. I appreciate the offer. Maybe I just got things wrong. I’ll head back to the Inn and wait for him there.” Nicola gave him a rueful smile. “As you said, he’s bound to turn up sooner or later.”

  “The offer still stands if you change your mind,” the bartender said and left Nicola standing outside the restroom feeling lost and confused.

  She hurried outside and made her way down the sidewalk checking shops and restaurants as she passed. She was so sure it was Danny she had seen, although from that distance she could have been mistaken. She hadn’t seen the man’s face with the baseball cap pulled low obscuring his features. And besides, there was no reason for Danny to be there.

  As she walked back towards the river she could see the bright vapor of the traffic lights in the distance.

  * * *

  He stood in the shadows, watching, and then followed at a safe distance as she walked along the sidewalk occasionally stopping to peer in store windows or glance in open restaurant doors, where streetlights cast long shadows on the pavement.

  When she turned and looked behind, he was able to conceal himself in unlit doorways, or amongst the crowd of people on the sidewalk.

  He followed her down to the river and when she was most vulnerable, he stepped up behind her.

  The scream died in her throat as a large hand closed over her mouth. She tried to struggle, but the man was too powerful.

  The force of the blow knocked the wind out her lungs. She could feel her heart pounding hard in her chest, her ears ringing as she tried to draw breath.

  He shoved her violently onto the ground, his hand on the back of her head forcing her face into the dirt, his knees on her back pinning her down.

  The savage blow to the back of her head left her dazed and disoriented. When he pulled her head back she stared into cold, hard eyes devoid of emotion.

  The knife sliced cleanly across her throat–and she felt nothing more.

  *****

  I could feel my sister’s eyes boring holes in me. But, hey! I’m tough. I can take!

  “You’ve gone and done it again, haven’t you!” she said with an indignant edge to her voice.

  I shrugged. “What can I say? That’s show business, kiddo.”

  “Show business! What has show business got to do with it?” she asked, obviously confused.

  “Well, nothing, actually,” I flashed her a smile hoping to put an end to this interrogation before it got started. But I was wrong. She was like a terrier dog with a bone.

  “What was Danny doing there anyway? Surely he had nothing to do with killing that woman?”

  I gave her a flippant wave of the hand. “Read into it what you will, my little chickadee.”

  “You’ve got me so confused I don’t know what to believe anymore.”

  I laughed. “It is fun though, isn’t it? You have to admit you’re enjoying the thrill of the chase?”

  “It’s only fun if I know what’s going on.” She pouted.

  I dismissed her complaint with a wave of the hand.

  “You claim to be able to read my mind, so go ahead my little clairvoyant, read my mind and tell me what is lurking in the shadows.

  “You know I can only read your mundane, everyday thoughts. Murder and mayhem are not what I want to find when I go trolling through the dark recesses of your mind. Who knows what evil could be hidden there. All these strange men and killings are the stuff of some pretty scary nightmares.” She shivered.

  “Oh, don’t be such a baby. Go on, admit it? You love every minute of this cat and mouse game? Gets the old gray matter working, doesn’t it?”

  “Why can’t you just tell me what’s going on?” she said with a petulant wine.

  “Why don’t you discuss it with your friend, Linda and see what she’s got to say. Now shall I continue, or do you want to debate the matter further?”

  “Oh, all right–continue–if you must.”

  “Then fasten your seatbelt and hold onto your hat, because, sister dear, you are in for one heck of a ride!”

  *****

  They were woken from a deep sleep by the loud wail of sirens.

  Danny staggere
d over to the window and watched the red taillights of police cars disappear over the rise in the pre-dawn darkness. When he crawled back into bed, Nicola snuggled into him, still half asleep.

  “As long as they don’t stop here, we have nothing to worry about,” he said as he pulled the covers around them.

  * * *

  “What’s going on?” Danny asked as he handed his credit card to the clerk at the front desk.

  The man glanced around and lowered his voice, as though imparting a secret. “A woman’s body was found under the bridge early this morning.”

  “Oh, my God, I was down there last night. Do you know what time it happened?” Nicola said.

  The clerk shook his head. “They haven’t said. I talked to a couple of uniformed cops on my way in to work, but they weren’t saying much.”

  “Do they know what happened?” Danny asked.

  The clerk shook his head. “Someone said she had been murdered.”

  Nicola was clearly shaken, her face drained of color.

  The man leaned across the counter and checked to make sure no one was within hearing distance. “They think it was most likely a jealous husband or lover, but won’t know anything until the victim has been identified.”

  “He’s probably right,” Danny said as he dropped the bags in the trunk of the SUV.

  “Why would someone do something like that?” Nicola asked.

  “Why does anyone kill, Nic?” Danny said as he slid behind the wheel. “There are a million reasons and I’m sure every killer thinks what he did was completely justified.” He handed Nicola the Rand McNally Road Atlas opened at the appropriate page and said, “Here, you’ll need this. I think we follow the Delaware River up past the Water Gap then we cross into New York, somewhere up here.” He tapped the page with his finger to indicate the spot, turned the key in the ignition and drove out of the parking lot.

  The SUV headed down Main Street and crossed the intersection where the body had been found in the quiet pre-dawn hours under the bridge by a local fisherman. Even though the body had been removed, sightseers hung around the cordoned-off area like ghouls, and speculated on the demise of the victim.

  Nicola chewed on her bottom lip as she stared out the window.

  Danny sensed something was bothering her. “What’s the matter, Nic? You’ve been quiet since we left New Hope.”

  “I thought I saw you down at the bridge last night.”

  “What are you talking about, Nic?”

  “When I was down at the bridge last night I thought I saw you walking along the street. And then suddenly, you turned around and took off in the opposite direction.”

  “The reason you couldn’t find me was because I wasn’t there. What made you think it was me?” he asked, confused.

  “The man appeared to be around your height and weight and was dressed all in black. Black jeans, black T-shirt, black sneakers. He was even wearing a black baseball cap like the one you wear when you visit your Harley friends. I was so sure it was you.”

  “I was miles away. Don’t you think if I had been there I would have been with you?”

  “Yes, of course you would. If I had seen the man up close he probably wouldn’t have looked anything like you. It was the dark clothes and cap that had me convinced. I’m so used to seeing you in your Harley outfit, I immediately jumped to conclusions. I’m sorry, Danny.”

  Danny reached across and patted her hand. “There’s nothing to apologize for, Nic. I know light can often play tricks on your eyes, especially at night.”

  Nicola gave a light, self-conscious laugh and said, “Imagine how that poor guy must have felt when he saw this crazy woman chasing him down the street, screaming like a banshee.”

  Danny laughed. “He probably hid in the men’s room at the pub.”

  Nicola turned her head and looked out the window. “No, he didn’t.” She said it so softly the words left no mark on the glass.

  They traveled the narrow two-lane road beside the Pennsylvania canal, past small villages and hamlets where you only had to blink twice and they were gone.

  “This is a really nice area,” Danny said as they passed an old stone cottage covered in brambles surrounded by fields of wildflowers, red-leafed maples, and tall pines, with a white-painted glider on the porch. In a meadow nearby, two young girls were riding horses beside a silvery creek, their long hair trailing out from beneath black riding helmets, their faces alive with good health and laughter. “I wonder what it would be like to live around here.”

  “Why? Are you planning on moving?”

  “No. Well, not here anyway. I just wondered what it would be like to live in place like this. Often things that look good on the outside aren’t always what they seem,” he said as they passed an old red barn in an overgrown field where birds of prey circled high in a sky devoid of color, and a jackrabbit disappeared in the tall grass.

  SIXTEEN

  We were sipping tea in the garden when I suddenly remembered something I had been meaning to tell my sister.

  “Heard from Peter lately?” I said matter-of-factly.

  “Peter? Peter who?”

  “You know … Peter.”

  “Peter? You don’t mean who I think you mean–do you?”

  I nodded. “Yes. Uncle Peter.”

  Rosie almost choked on her tea. “You did say, Uncle Peter… or was that just a misguided aberration on my part?”

  “No. No. You heard right,” I said and feigned interest in a dead leaf I picked up off the ground.

  “What brought that on?”

  My interest in the leaf increased. “Oh, just that I had a call from Daisy a week or so before we left.”

  Now my sister’s interest was piqued. “Daisy?” she asked. “Peter’s third wife…? Is that the Daisy you mean?”

  I grinned. “The very same.”

  Rosie gave me an impatient look. “And…?” she said, her hand beckoning for me to give it up.

  I tossed the leaf aside, and shrugged matter-of-factly, and gave her a flat look. “It appears loverboy has been at it again.” My words needed no further embellishment; my sister knew I was referring to our Fifty-eight-year-old uncle with a Peter Pan complex–who became our brother.

  Our paternal grandmother was forty-five when Uncle Peter was born. Dad, the oldest of seven siblings, was twenty-five at the time. I was two–Rosie–just a baby.

  Our grandparents–Peter’s parents–were killed when Peter was six-years old, while visiting family in Scotland. A farm tractor rounded a bend on a narrow county lane–and collided with them, head on.

  At the time, Peter was staying with us so the family decided it was best to leave him where he was–less traumatic. And so Peter became the brother we never had.

  Six-foot-three-inches tall with hair as dark as ours was fair and bronze-colored skin from Spanish genes, by way of Ireland, Peter had sapphire-blue eyes that were full of mischief, and a disarming smile no woman could resist.

  Rosie took a sip of tea… and then shrugged. “So, what else is new?”

  “She said he’s in Detroit.”

  Rosie blanched and spluttered.

  “You okay, Hon?” I popped the cap off a bottle of spring water and handed it to her. One of the side effects from chemotherapy drugs is dry mouth, so I always keep bottled water handy.

  Rosie sipped and nodded while she tried to find her voice. “Detroit? As in Michigan?” she finally blurted out.

  “The very same,” I said with a bob of the head.

  “Why would anyone choose to go to Detroit unless they were searching for Sixto Rodriguez–or some reminder of the Motown Sound? Detroit is a basket case. Peter was more into the San Francisco sound: Van Morrison, Janis Joplin, Led Zeppelin, Jefferson Airplane.”

  “The Grateful Dead. Yeah, I remember–how could I not!”

  “And he loved to surf. I don’t think there’s a lot of surfing done on the lakes around Michigan. So what he is doing there?”

  “You may well ask,
my little turtle-dove, but I’m not sure you’ll want to know the answer.” I grinned. “On the other hand, it is worth a good laugh.”

  “Don’t keep me in suspense, girl, out with it.”

  “It appears our wayward Romeo met some woman on the internet and before you could say, Captain Hook, he was off in hot pursuit of his lady love.”

  My sister rolled her eyes, but I can’t say we were surprised. We’d been through it before–several times.

  “Not again?”

  “Yep, again. But the good news is–or maybe it’s the bad news–depending on which side of the fence you are at. Daisy phoned me the day before we left, to tell me our over-the-hill Romeo had shown up back home with his tail between his legs, looking surprisingly contrite. It seems the woman had misrepresented herself.” I shook my head and tut-tutted.

  “Nooo!”

  “Yeees!”

  We dissolved into laughter.

  “Why am I not surprised? So tell me, what did Daisy have to say?” Rosie asked.

  I shot her a small sideways smile.

  “It seems our love-struck-Romeo finally confessed in an effort to cleanse his soul- or so he said. He told Daisy the photo the sweet young thing had posted on the internet was either a much younger version of herself–or someone else entirely. Apparently the woman he met lived in a trailer park, weighed about three hundred and fifty pounds, and had eight kids–all of dubious parentage.”

  Rosie was about to say something, but I held up my hand.

  “But wait… there’s more–and you’re going to love this, Hon. Apparently in one of her emails the woman asked our love-stuck Romeo for money, so she could fly to Australia to meet him, because he was–now how did she put it–because he was the ‘man of her dreams’.”

  “Oh, puh-leeze.”

  “But, by now, our brother had his dick in his hands and decided to surprise her instead. He jumped on the first available flight to be with…, now let me see if I’ve got this right…, the woman he had been waiting for all his life.”